


doing the impossible (with you)

by snowandwolves



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Lexa (The 100), Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, Feelings, Grounder Clarke Griffin, Heda Lexa (The 100), Lexa Lives (The 100), Season 5 and 6 Never Happened, Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel Fix-It, Tissue Warning, Wanheda Clarke Griffin, because im still not over it, i have been told to add, just all around badass clarke, so slow you might kill me, there is pain ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 76,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22649365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowandwolves/pseuds/snowandwolves
Summary: Clarke dies by her own hand.And then, she wakes up to an impossibility.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 406
Kudos: 2294





	1. Serve No Other

Clarke dies by her own hand.

It's fitting, she supposes. She lived her life as Wanheda, the Commander of Death, the personification of some fucked up spirit, driving her to make impossible decisions on who gets to live and who dies. And now, as she floats between the realm of barely-alive and almost-dead, Clarke can't help but laugh — a horrible sound made by the blood gushing out of her throat and the increasingly hopeless beating of her heart. Slitting her own throat is so goddamn _fitting_ she almost wonders what took her so long.

In all honesty, she didn't think she'd end up here on the ground, a couple of miles away from Mount Weather, a knife clutched in her hand, blood painting her death bed, and dying screams singing her eulogy. Then again, if the gods weren't so set on making her life a living hell, she probably wouldn't even be back in time because _really? Time fucking travel?_

Of course, the gods couldn't let her die in peace. Of _fucking_ course, they won't settle for a simple death like getting torched by Praimfaya. No, they had to send her back in time, back to Mount Weather, back to the exact moment when she watched the love of her miserable life walk away.

And really, who could blame her for throwing her hands up in surrender, walking away from the battlefield, and choosing to die by her own hands if a _nuclear apocalypse_ won't do it?

Clarke sucked her final breath, feeling grateful that finally, _finally_ , this is the end, thankful that she saw Lexa for a brief moment, grateful that her last impossible decision was to kill herself.

Glazed blue eyes closed, a sad, tiny smile gracing her face.

_May we meet again._

\--------------------

"Clarke."

"Kiddo."

"Skaiprisa."

"Branwanda."

"Klark."

"Klark."

"Klark!"

Clarke gasps awake, heart beating erratically. She doesn't know what the afterlife should look like, but whatever it was, she thought, it should look nothing like this. Everything is white, and Clarke can't help but feel the nothingness to her bones.

She is alone.

"Hello, Clarke."

Scratch that.

Spinning, Clarke turned to see… something. Wisps of black smoke that vaguely resembles a human body greeted her, and she doesn't know what to think of it. Shivering, Clarke clenches her fists, trying to smother the overwhelming need to _run_.

"Hello?" Seemingly in response to her voice, the smoke slowly solidified. It transforms into the body of a woman, who, to her disbelief, looks like her, except for her brunette locks and glowing blue eyes. At this point, Clarke thought, _fuck it_. "Who are you?"

"I go by many names," her look-alike says in a deep, regal voice that echoed power. "I am Coatlicue, Sekhmet, and Yama. You may know me as Wanheda."

Clarke wonders if she can kill herself in the afterlife. Her look-alike smiles. _Jesus Christ._

"You cannot, Clarke," Wanheda says, her eyebrows lifting in amusement. "You died in two timelines. I had wondered if you would kill yourself if you were sent to another. As such, I thought it better to meet you in the in-between."

Clark has so many questions. She settles on one.

"Why?" Clarke says, voice heavy with disbelief. Wanheda softens, profound sadness dulling her eyes.

"You are here because the world needs you, because my love was robbed of her life, because I believe in you," Wanheda says. "Your heart is broken and scarred and bleeding, your soul even more so. You are here because you must face heartbreak, pain, and loss yet again. You are here, Clarke, because I choose no one else to hold me."

"Why me?" Clarke asks, her tone betraying the despair she tries to smother.

"Because you are strong," Clarke scoffs. "You may not see it, but your heart can hold planets. Even as it screams in agony, your soul burns bright across planes of existence. I have watched you for a long time, Clarke. I have watched you love, leave, and be left behind. I have watched you suffer for the decisions no one can make and be unjustly crucified for it."

_Their blood is on your hands._

_When you're in charge, people die._

_You're not God, Clarke. You don't get to decide who lives and dies._

_Do you ever see their faces? Of all the people you've killed._

_I am doing the best I can!_

_That's not good enough._

_You always wanna save everyone. But what you don't realize is you're the one we need saving from._

_I bear it so that they don't have to._

Clarke falls to her knees, the weight of the world resting on her shoulders.

"I can't do it anymore, Wanheda," she sobs. "Not again, never again."

Wanheda bends, refusing the elevation that her spirit deserves and choosing to reach for the human who has shattered for her people again and again. Lifting Clarke's chin, Wanheda gives her sympathy and empathy as she brushes away the tears of her vessel-to-be. Clarke feels the comfort and warmth that she didn't know Death could have.

"I am sorry, Clarke," Wanheda whispers. "I know it is much to ask. I cannot promise you a life without pain. Being my vessel is to be capable of the impossible. It is a burden that I do not wish for you to carry."

"Then, please, _please_ , don't."

"If there was any other option, I would not. I would guide you to where the dead rests, to where they dream the best life they could have ever hoped for. I cannot do that, Clarke. The world has fallen into chaos. The timelines you have visited are gone, and if the last one meets its end, then there will be no tomorrow, no life, no peace. The world cannot exist without life and death, Heda and Wanheda. My love and I represent balance and hope. Without both, the world will burn to take your friends and your people to its grave."

Wanheda takes Clarke's shaking hands, trying her best to hold her vessel together even as she falls apart before her eyes.

"You and I are the better halves of each other, much like Lexa and Heda. No one understands death as much as you do though you still have much to learn," Wanheda says, as she feels Clarke grasp her hands in an iron grip. "You see, Clarke, death is more than pain and suffering. It is more than the end. It is hope for those who are ready to live their next lives; it is justice to those who have hurt others. Death is brought down to those who have earned peace and to those who deserve pain."

"Don't I deserve death yet?" Clarke chokes as she remembers the people she hurt, left, and killed. Wanheda's eyes harden.

"You have not," she says, voice leaving no room for doubt. "You have suffered and shattered for each life you have taken. You are in pain because you understand the weight of life and what it means to kill."

"Then, have I not earned it yet?" Wanheda softens at the whispered question.

"Have you?" Wanheda asks. "Have you no regrets? Can you say that there is nothing more you can do, that you have nothing left to learn, that you have nothing to live for, that everyone you have ever loved is waiting on the other side? Raven, Octavia, Monty, Bellamy, Murphy, Wells, Abby, Jake, _Lexa_. Tell me, Clarke, have you earned the right to die?"

Clarke lowers her eyes, her bottom lip wobbling as Wanheda names her people. She thinks about Jake, who died for the truth, Anya, who she couldn't save, and Lexa, who left her behind. The guilt slashes at heart, relentless in its pursuit.

"I don't know," she sobs. " _I don't know_."

"You have not, my vessel. You have yet to experience unsullied happiness, unending love, and everlasting peace. All you have ever known is pain. That is why you must stand, Clarke," Wanheda says, pulling Clarke up to her unsteady feet.

"How do you know it'll be different this time around?" Clarke pleads. Wanheda brims with hope and certainty.

"Because this time, I will be with you. I will not leave as you have been left behind. I will not betray you as you have suffered. I will not persecute you as you have been judged. For every life you take, I will provide you comfort and warmth and dreams of peace," Wanheda swears. "I will be with you, one with you, and nothing without you."

Clarke gasps in the weight of Wanheda's promise. And for the first time in a long while, she doesn't feel alone or abandoned. Wanheda waits patiently for her answer, and Clarke knows that there is only one thing left to say.

"Okay."

And Wanheda is relieved.

\--------------------

Wanheda and Clarke spent a lot of time discussing why they must do what needed to be done.

"It is true that there are planets outside of Earth that can support life. Some societies thrive in blue soil and constant mornings. Some live beneath – choosing a life of darkness than to suffer the tragedies that their suns can bring. The universe is vast and filled with possibilities that even I am not privy to."

"Why save the Earth if there are other lands where we can establish a new home?"

Wanheda smiles, proud and sad.

"Because, Clarke, there is nothing quite like our Earth, our first and only home."

\--------------------

They talked about the burden of being alone and how Clarke does not have to be.

"Will I be doing this alone?" Clarke asks. Wanheda, who was walking by her side, stops and turns to her.

"No one, divine or mortal, can achieve the impossible alone," she explains. "To do so is arrogance and hubris. It brings nothing but pain and suffering to you and to those around you. As such, you are allowed to choose two companions to gain their memories of their previous lives in both timelines. Because the world had left nothing but death and fire when you died in one and took your own life in the other, whoever you choose will be brought in this realm. I will assess their worthiness and loyalty."

"Should I choose now?" Clarke says, brain already turning.

"No. You will choose when you and I are united as the choice is part of the ritual." Clarke nods, eyes thoughtful.

\--------------------

They talked about what is to be expected.

"Just as Heda must abide by the three pillars of wisdom, strength, and compassion, you will have to grow and establish the seven foundations of and as Wanheda. These are those of Heda's as well as hope, justice, humility, and bravery."

Clarke immediately feels like a failure.

"I might be a lost cause in all of those, Wanheda." The spirit places a comforting hand on her vessel-to-be's shoulder.

"On the contrary, Clarke," she says, eyes proud and understanding. "You displayed hope when you believed that telling the Ark about the oxygen problem was the right thing to do. You displayed strength when you were sent to Earth, when you united criminals to follow you. You displayed compassion when you grieved the warriors you burned and those that Mount Weather murdered. You displayed justice when you pulled the lever. You displayed humility when you acknowledged that you are human and that the best you can do is sometimes not enough. You displayed wisdom when you swallowed your anger to kneel before Lexa."

"You forgot one thing," Clarke says after a lengthy pause, the tips of her ears burning with the barrage of compliments she didn't know she needed to hear.

Wanheda kneels before her, taking Clarke's hands into hers.

"Bravery is where I admire you most, Clarke. You embodied it when you chose to stand despite having lost Jake, Finn, and Wells, when you chose to love Lexa despite her flaws, when you chose life again and again despite your final moments, and when you accepted to be with me despite the fear that I know burdens your heart," Wanheda explains, watching the tears fall onto the blonde's face.

"Bravery is to not be without fear. It is to choose to face it head-on, and it is to move forward despite its clutches," Wanheda stands though she refuses to let go of Clarke's shaking hands. She sees a flicker of hope and determination in her eyes.

"You have the heart of giants, Clarke. You have what my other vessels failed to cultivate. And that is why I chose you."

Clarke hugs Wanheda.

(Wanheda stiffens, touch-starved and lonely heart beating painfully in her hollow chest.

For the first time in eons, she cries.)

\--------------------

They talked about the limits and possibilities.

"Can you revive the dead?"

Wanheda smiles ruefully, old grief dulling her eyes.

"No. No matter how much I would like to, I cannot revive the dead. They are beyond our reach, beyond what either of us can comprehend. You must remember that knowledge is power," Wanheda warns, as Clarke drinks in everything she's saying. "And there is little we understand about the afterlife. What we do not understand, we do not touch. We must not be arrogant, we must not succumb to hubris."

"The dead are gone, and the living are hungry," Clarke quotes. Wanheda nods.

"Yes," she says. "What we _can_ do is to ensure that the living survives, that the hungry are fed, and that the dead rest in peace. We are Death because we bring demise upon those who hinder what we stand for and what the stars guide us to do: to bring peace so that they may never know what it means to be who we are."

"We bear is so that they don't have to."

"Yes."

"What can we do then?" Clarke asks with an easy acceptance that surprises Wanheda. Recovering, she grins giddily at her vessel-to-be, surprising the latter in return.

"Once I am one with you, you will need to train your mind and body for no mortal vessel can handle my spirit and presence without strength," Wanheda starts. "You will be required to understand Trigedasleng. Once the training is over, I expect that you will be a warrior like no other, not even Heda, and a leader, second only to Heda. You will learn to heal, fight, lead, and live."

Clarke nods, heart suddenly yearning for Lexa, her infinite green eyes, and kind and callous hands. Wanheda senses her loneliness.

"But perhaps what you and I will look forward to in the days to come is learning to fly," Wanheda laughs at Clarke's obvious shock.

"Excuse me, what?" Clarke gasps, "I thought I heard you say fly."

"You did," Wanheda grins. "Being Wanheda is to be of the ground and the sky, not unlike who you are as both Grounder and Skaiprisa. When you have come to accept me as yours and I, you, then you will gain wings to take you to places where you are needed, to offer you the clouds when you need peace, and to get you closer to the stars when you need guidance. It is an achievement that only my first vessel has ever reached."

"Do you think I can do it?" Clarke asks, voice uncharacteristically small and childlike. Wanheda softens.

"Without a doubt, yes." Clarke smiles a genuine smile, her whole being brightening as if she has found the light she needed, the hope she missed. Wanheda marvels at the sight, preening at the realization that she was the cause of such a simple, beautiful thing.

"What does it feel like?"

"Flying?" Clarke nods. Wanheda closes her eyes, tilting her head up.

"It is free. Imagine having the clouds within your reach, the moon looking like it is close enough to touch, and the sunset bathing in you in warmth," Wanheda says, voice breaking in evident longing. "It is a feeling that you will never forget. There are not enough words to describe everything it feels in the way it deserves."

Clarke watches Wanheda, seeing the sadness and grief that the loss of her wings must cause. It felt eerily like how she felt when she watched Lexa fade before her eyes. Then and there, Clarke vowed that she will fly. If not for herself, then for Wanheda. This spirit, this goddess has given her hope, and for that, she deserves nothing but the best Clarke could offer. She reaches for Death's hand, feeling how the fingers in hers clasped and gripped.

"I will do my best," Clarke swears. Wanheda opens her eyes and turns to look at her.

"You are more than enough."

And Clarke starts mending.

\--------------------

The union happened when Clarke had nothing left to ask, and Wanheda had nothing left to say. Clarke feels far from ready to carry the responsibility of being the Commander of Death, but she knew that there was little they could do in this realm. So, when Wanheda asked her if she was ready, she had nodded, dazed but sure.

Clarke watches Wanheda's form melts and molts to reveal her true face. And Clarke suddenly understands why she had not greeted her in this form.

Wanheda is a woman, whose jet black hair flowed to her waist, framing her sharp, angular face perfectly. Tanned skin formed, and Clarke is struck with the beauty of the goddess before her. Glowing blue eyes stared at her, seemingly searching her soul for deception and pain all the while providing comfort and warmth. Clarke shivers, knowing that she is in the presence of someone who transcends the limits of mortality.

She is terrifyingly beautiful.

When Wanheda spoke, Clarke stops breathing.

"We honor a new warrior," the goddess starts in a voice that sounded like many others. "Reborn from war and blood, tragedy and pain, love and loss, you have chosen to follow the path of Death and Justice, Life and Hope."

Wanheda steps forward, and Clarke unconsciously takes a step back. Seeing her charge's reaction, the goddess smiles. _We're going to have to work on that_ , Clarke thinks, brain muddled and fried.

"Be not afraid, _ai gona_ ," Wanheda soothes. She steps forward again and is delighted to see Clarke determined to stay where she is. She reaches for her warrior's hands. At the moment of contact, Clarke suddenly knows what to do.

" _Ai laik Klark,_ " she starts, following the instructions of the whispers in her head. She bows her head. " _Ai badan yu op en no moun_."

As soon as she spoke the words, Clarke feels power rush through her. It crawls through her veins and spreads from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She vibrates as it settles deep within her, and instinctively, she closes her eyes.

" _Ai laik yun_ ," she finishes her vow. She doesn't fight when she feels Wanheda let go of her left hand to tilt her chin up. She opens her eyes and meets blue eyes staring back at her.

"As I am yours," Wanheda responds. "The past rejoices your acceptance, the present sees me honored, and the future awaits for the peace we will bring."

When the goddess opens her mouth next, Clarke swears that she has never heard of anything more resplendent.

" _Yumi na teik won sonraun au_?" Wanheda sings, voice carrying an ancient melody. " _Medo ste thonken, medo drein au_."

Clarke continues to trust the whispers. She opens her mouth and finds that her voice seems to speak for those who now guide her.

" _Oso kik raun, ogeda soulou_ ," she sings. " _Ai laik yu gona, ai na get raun you_."

" _Yumi na teik won sonraun au_? _Ai kerion gyon op, ai keryon g' breik au_ ," Wanheda continues as Clarke begins to hear the beat in her head and the voices of the past vessels. " _Pas skaikrasha kiln tristraka, en houd don gon hosh trashsaka_. _Yumi na teik won sonraun au_? _Houd na fleim daun, bed' ge jok au_."

Wanheda takes her vessel's hands, closing her eyes in silent pleading and leaning her forehead on Clarke's. The blonde is overcome with emotion, so much so that her voice shakes even as it is strong.

" _Ai nou fir raun, ai mana jomp in, ai mana wan op. Ai don sin y'in_ ," Clarke swears.

They sing the final verse together.

" _Yumi na teik,_

_Won sonraun au?_

_Jus drein jus daun._

_Ai medo drein au._ "

Clarke feels that she should be panting after such an emotional experience, but all she finds is acceptance, her breathing even, and her heart calm. Her head is quiet, and Clarke knows that the past vessels have not and will never leave for as long as she is Wanheda's vessel.

Wanheda leans back and lets her hands go, knowing that Clarke needs her space to process. Her own mind is reeling as it is assaulted by every thought and every emotion her vessel has ever felt. When she opens her eyes, she finds overwhelming pride for the person Clarke has become far before she arrived in this realm.

"That was intense," she says, delighted to find her voice back to normal. Wanheda laughs, joyful and delighted. Her eyes sparkle with mirth and fondness, and Clarke can't help but return her joy. She feels her power hum beneath her skin.

And at this moment, Clarke feels infinite.

\--------------------

When both of their emotions settled, Wanheda decides to move forward.

"Have you thought about who will accompany you?" She watches Clarke's face sober, and for a moment, she sees a flash of longing that Wanheda knows to happen when her vessel is thinking of Lexa.

"I have," Clarke responds, fingers clenching in an effort to control her emotions. She knows that if she thinks of green eyes, she will crumble. She feels the deep yearning to have Lexa beside her, against her, _with_ her. This decision must be made with her head and not her heart, but every time she thinks of Lexa, she wishes nothing more to give in to the latter.

"W-When you told me that I must choose wisely," Clarke starts, clearing her throat. "I knew that if nothing else, my decision will dictate what the future will bring. My decision is not for me but for others."

"Yes," Wanheda nods, curious as to who Clarke chose. She watches her vessel waver, seemingly torn between one person and another. She watches as fists clench, as lungs draw a deep breath of air, as eyes harden with resolve. "Tell me, who will be your warriors, _ai gona_?"

" _Onya kom Trikru_ and _Reivon kom Skaikru_."

It is a testament to their connection that Clarke can see the moment her words filtered through Wanheda's expectations. The goddess reels back in surprise, a look of pure shock taking over her features. And for the first time since she found herself in this realm, Clarke giggles even as a sob catches in her throat. The sound is almost enough to make her forget the Lexa's name that burns at the tip of her tongue.

Clarke snaps back into reality when she feels that Wanheda has processed the unexpected information. The goddess sheepishly clears her throat.

"Not Lexa?" Wanheda asks, face open and curious even as her blue eyes shine with sympathy. Clarke smiles sadly.

"You know that I would want nothing more," Clarke explains, turning to stare at the void, wondering if her Heda is at peace. "But this is a decision that I made with my head and not my heart because my people, our people deserve the best that I can give." Clarke turns to Wanheda. "My love is irrelevant compared to what we'll fight to achieve."

The goddess shifts closer to her, hoping to provide what little comfort she can give to an aching heart. There's a hollowness in her chest, and a name in her mind and Wanheda swears that if all else fails, she will make sure that not even death will separate her vessel and her love.

"Anya is one of my biggest what-ifs. What if my people had not killed her? What if she were there in the Mountain? What if she can do so much more alive? What would have changed?" Clarke says. "I have a plan for when we go back to the last timeline, and her life and memories are necessary. On the other hand, Raven is mine. I made a promise."

"'I'd choose you first,'" Wanheda quotes a memory. Clarke looks at her in surprise. "We are united now, Clarke. I will receive the memories and feelings you wish to share with me, unconsciously or not. One day, you will learn to control it, but not today."

Her vessel nods, accepting the fact at face value.

"Well then," Wanheda steps back, raising her pale hands and folding them into fists as if to pull something back. "Let's bring them back from peace."

Black tendrils of smoke follow the direction of the goddess' hands. It expands and searches, and Clarke has never been more honored that she was chosen. Wanheda's fists tighten as her eyes glow an ethereal blue.

" _Come_ ," Wanheda orders.

And Death obeys.

\--------------------

As Anya and Raven's souls take form right before her eyes, Clarke thinks that there is something utterly baffling about knowing that there is death and a goddess (spirit? entity?) who commands it and still wonder how it works. She remembers Wanheda tell her that even someone who transcends mortality cannot bring back the dead, and yet, impossibly, she watches as Anya wakes thoroughly confused and wary.

"I did not revive them, Clarke," Wanheda says, answering the question in the blonde's head. "Death knows when to lead souls and when to wait. When you perished, both Heda and I knew that if the universe were to ever achieve balance, the souls would have to wait as I await whether they are to gain eternal dreams or to go back for the last time. The decision was made when you said yes to me. Now that you are mine and I am yours, Death will listen to your every command except for those that seek to revive the dead."

Clarke really has nothing to say to that, but she suspects she will come to understand someday. Right now, they'll have to put this conversation on hold because Raven is awake and is looking straight at the blonde.

Raven looks the same as in the first timeline before the vessel left her friends to save them from Praimfaya. Unbidden, Clarke's gaze falls on the brace wrapped around her friend's leg. Her lip wobbles.

"Be at peace, Clarke," Wanheda soothes. "There is no pain in this realm."

Seeing the blonde's reaction, Raven breaks the silence.

"Hey, Princess," she says, watching as Clarke's eyes snap to meet hers. Raven sees nothing but weariness and guilt lies heavy on the mechanic's heart. She had been unkind to the blonde in their original timeline, and she had not enough time to change things in the second. Raven had been part of the party who were sent to find Clarke after the Mountain. They did not win, and the feeling of loss only intensified when they saw the blonde.

Clarke looked beautifully peaceful and devastatingly sad when they found her without a heartbeat. She held Abby, who screamed her loss and watched Octavia release a wretched sob. Bellamy shook his head, and Raven, for the first time in her life, had nothing to say. Now, as she stares at the girl who made the decisions that gods could not and as she, who looks the same as she did on her deathbed, is seemingly preparing herself for yet another heartbreak, yet another judgment, Raven chokes.

The mechanic falls to her knees — not out of fear, but out of the weight of the regrets that pressed on her shoulders.

Clarke watches her friend drown in the things that she said and those that were left unsaid. She feels Wanheda take a step back, recognizing her vessel's need to handle their reunion by herself. She looks at Anya, who stares at her, mouth opening to ask a ton of questions that Clarke cannot answer while Raven suffers.

She lifts a hand, and Anya's mouth snaps shut.

_Later._

Anya nods.

That settled, Clarke walks calmly toward Raven, who dares not to lift her head. The mechanic feels the blonde kneel in front of her. Hands come up to urge her face up, and Raven finds herself meeting Clarke's hardened blue eyes. Tears fall on Raven's face, and Clarke softens.

"Clarke, I—," she starts, soon swallowing her words as hands let go of her face. Clarke moves to wrap her arms around her friend, feeling the trembles borne of her regret and the hitching breaths borne out of her repentance. Raven does not hesitate to throw herself into Clarke's embrace. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Clarke, I'm so sorry…"

Clarke holds her tighter, letting her sobs escape through her lips. She feels a tremble in the blonde's shoulders, and it only makes her cry harder because Clarke's shoulders are deceptively small and frail, and yet, this girl carried the world for them. Raven grips Clarke back, overwhelmed by the comfort she does not deserve but is freely given.

Eventually, Raven's sobs wind down to sniffles. Clarke pulls back, taking the time to wipe away her friend's tears.

"We've said a lot to each other, Rae," Clarke whispers, unwilling to break the atmosphere surrounding them both. "We've done things we will never forget, and we've hurt each other again and again."

"Remind me never to ask you to comfort anyone," Raven says, a watery chuckle escaping her lips. Clarke responds with a warm smile.

"But Raven, I'd still choose you first," she finishes. The brunette's eyes fill again, and she releases a shuddering breath of relief. "Why wouldn't I? You're awesome." Raven smacks Clarke's shoulder.

"That's my line, Princess."

\--------------------

Once Raven allowed herself to be pulled up to her feet and after Clarke had squeezed her hand comfortingly, Wanheda thinks that now would be a good time to step in.

" _Hei, Onya kom Trikru en Reivon kom Skaikru_ ," Wanheda greets as soon as she found her place beside Clarke.

"Uh, hi?" Raven says uncertainly. "You're paler than my ass, whoever you are."

The reaction following the mechanic's words is instantaneous. Clarke smacks her forehead, Wanheda chuckles, and Anya turns away from the group as her shoulders shake in laughter. Clarke doesn't think she's ever seen the general laugh and judging from Raven's incredulous look, her mechanic is thinking along the same lines.

"I'm sorry," Clarke apologizes to Wanheda. "Raven doesn't have a filter," Wanheda responds by placing a hand on her vessel's shoulder.

"It's quite alright, _ai gona_. I see why you chose her."

"Chose me? Chose me for what?" Raven asks, obviously confused. Wanheda turns to look at the two newcomers, and both suppresses a shudder that her eyes incite despite her friendly smile.

"My name is Wanheda, the Commander of Death." Said newcomers gape at her. "You are here because Clarke is my vessel and warrior." Raven and Anya turn to Clarke, who sports a sheepish smile that belies the proud twinkle in her eyes.

Wanheda does not give them time to recover. She regales all that transpired in the time that she and Clarke spent in this realm, and by the time she reached their union, Raven and Anya are standing as still as statues. Clarke refrains a laugh to allow Wanheda to continue. She catches the side-eye that the goddess shoots her, and the blonde knows that she wasn't as subtle as she thought herself to be. Clarke sobers as Wanheda's tale comes to an end. She noticed that her goddess did not mention how the two were to be her companions.

Time ticks by after Wanheda's explanation and Clarke resists the urge to fidget because of the silence. Thankfully, it doesn't last long as both Raven and Anya burst into a flurry of activity. Curiously, Anya falls to her knees in front of Clarke as she mutters a constant stream of _nomonjoka, jok, jok, skrish_. On the other hand, Raven explodes into wild, frantic movements, all the while saying something along the lines of "I'm hallucinating," "what the fuck, Clarke," and "what a day to have an existential crisis."

Clarke approaches Anya first, watching as the general's shoulders tense even as she stops her advance three feet away from her.

"Rise, Anya," the quiet command slips past her lips. "There is no need to kneel in this realm."

Anya surprisingly obeys though her hesitation is apparent. It takes a while, but slowly but surely, Anya meets Clarke's eyes. There's a faint glow in the _Skaigada's_ blue, and the kind smile doesn't quite mask the power that Anya knows she holds. She observes as Wanheda falls into step behind Clarke – an action that only serves to remind the general that she is in the presence of legends and myths. Instinct propels her to keep her mouth shut, which is something that Raven does as soon as the tension reached her awareness.

"Wanheda gave me a choice," Clarke begins to explain, watching as Lexa's general and _Skaikru_ 's mechanic's attention snaps to her. "I was to pick two companions to help and guide me. That is why both of you are here. Should you choose to accept, we will retain our memories of the first two timelines."

Raven, ever the genius, picks up on an anomaly.

"Why us? Why not Lexa?" She asks, ignoring Anya's habitual growl that comes if she thinks that her Heda is being disrespected. Raven sees the sad smile that graces Clarke's face.

"Do you doubt Heda's abilities?" Anya asks, scrutinizing every expression of emotion that Clarke doesn't control.

"No, Anya," she answers. "I didn't choose Lexa because no matter how much of her heart belongs to me, she will always belong to her people first. She can't abandon them to train with me, to die with me, and I wouldn't ask that of her. She is Heda before she is mine. If she knew about the lives we've led, she'd go out of her way to protect me. And if we're to ever see the peace she's been fighting for, then I can't ask her to be mine."

"You loved _Leksa_?" Clarke gives her a sad smile, fists clenching to calm her heart. Raven scoffs.

"You have no idea, cheekbones," the mechanic says, remembering the grief and loss that weighed on her friend's soul after the Commander died and how she fought to protect her even when she was already gone.

"I did," Clarke says. "I still do, and I think I always will."

Anya searches her face for any sign of deception. After a beat, the general nods, and if Clarke knew her better, she might think that Anya approves.

"I chose Anya for two reasons. First, she's Lexa's _Fos_. If there's anyone on the ground who can train us, it's you," Clarke explains, looking directly into the general's eyes. "You know the ground like the back of your hand, and you were the first _Trikru_ to escape the Mountain. You also know Nia and what she has done to Costia. You're our best bet if we’re to take advantage of our second… well, third chance."

"How do you know all that?" Anya demands.

"Lexa told me," Clarke answers, watching as disbelief and surprise overwhelms Anya.

"You know for a general, you're kind of oblivious," Raven jokes as she holds up her hands in surrender when Anya glares at her. Clarke decides to interject lest they attempt to kill each other.

"The second reason is that you love Lexa."

"And?" Anya snarks, uncomfortable with any form of feelings. Clarke steps forward, letting her face harden as she offers up her forearm.

"If you accept your place beside me, know that every order and command I give you is for Lexa. I understand that your loyalty will always be with her; I have no wish to change that. There's a lot you don't know about the life we shared, and someday, when we meet on the ground, I will tell you everything you want to know," Anya looks skeptical, but Clarke powers forward. "For now, know that it is because of that life that I wish for you to follow my orders."

The vessel takes another step forward, veins turning an eerie, inky black, and blue eyes glowing with power. Looking at this girl who used to be nothing but a bumbling idiot, Anya wonders what happened. When Clarke spoke again, Anya hears the command, and she resists the urge to look away.

"When I tell you to run, you run to Lexa. When I tell you to fight, you fight to protect Lexa. When I tell you to go, you go to Lexa. When I tell you to live, you stay alive for Lexa. And when I tell you to trust me, you will trust that everything I do is for Lexa, for her people, and for mine." Clarke extends her forearm, stopping just a few inches from touching the general.

" _Badan ai op, Onya kom Trikru_ ," Clarke commands, voice echoing the support of the vessels before her. Anya's stoicism doesn't waver, and she does not hesitate to wrap her hand around Clarke's forearm even as she feels the vessel's grip on hers.

" _Sha_ , _Wanheda_." The general feels a flash of searing pain around the part of her forearm that Clarke holds. It is a testament to her training that she manages to suppress a flinch.

When Clarke finally lets go, she shifts her attention to Raven, who's staring at her inky veins like she wants to slice one open. She clears her throat and waits for the past vessels to settle before she opens her mouth to speak.

"Are you okay?" Clarke inquires. Raven's eyes snap back to hers.

"You know, we've been friends for a long time, right? We've survived a bunch of angry people, an entire _mountain_ , genocide, war, xenophobes, a second _nuclear apocalypse_ , etcetera. I didn't think you could do it, Princess, but this shit might be the weirdest thing I've ever seen," Raven rants. Clarke chuckles in response as the mechanic eyes seem to be focused in the ink that is steadily retreating from her veins. She'd have to ask Wanheda about that, but it'll have to wait for later.

"You feeling sane enough to talk about why you're here, Rae?" Clarke asks. Raven sobers, looking directly into the blonde's still glowing eyes.

"I'm the youngest Zero-G mechanic in 52 years. I know why you picked me."

"Do you?"

"I mean, if we're going to be preventing wars, you're going to need my genius self to make stuff go boom. Also, A.L.I.E's code is ingrained in my brain, so there's that too," Raven says, unaware that Clarke is saddened by the notion that her friend believes that their relationship is so fickle.

"Raven," she says, waiting for the brunette to focus on her. "That's only part of the reason why I chose you."

"I mean, there's also my pod-making skills –…"

"You're right, and you're also so incredibly wrong."

"Then, why?" Raven asks, looking so utterly baffled. Clarke steps closer, eyes softening in a way that makes the mechanic's heart clench.

"Because I'd choose you first, because there's no one else I trust to have my back, because I want to show you a life that is much more than pain," Clarke whispers.

"I called you a _murderer_ ," Raven blurts in her disbelief, watching as Clarke doesn't flinch but allows an understanding look pass through her face. She was so focused on the blonde that she misses the way Wanheda bristles at her words, and Anya's subsequent albeit unconscious step back. "I told you a hell of a lot of things I wish I can take back. How do you trust someone who keeps judging you for the impossible decisions you make? How can you trust _me_?"

"You're a mechanic, Rae," Clarke responds. "You don't believe things without proof, and the choices I made are hard to understand if you didn't live it. Don't get me wrong. It hurt like how I imagine floating to be, but I know who you are. I know you regret the things you said in anger and grief and pain. But when it mattered, you were always there, ready to do what I asked."

"How do you know I won't do it again?" Raven demands, her eyes watering.

"I don't. But I know you will try, and that is all I ask. For every little thing you don't understand, I will do my best to explain. When you say things that could hurt me, I will do my best to understand. Trust doesn't require anything other than belief, and I already believe that we can do better this time. Together." Clarke says as she offers her forearm the way she did with Anya. "I refuse to do this without you, Rae. So, trust me?"

Raven watches the ink wrap around the blonde's veins even as her vision blurred with tears.

"You know," she rasps. "If you're going to make me cry every time we talk, I'm going to blow you up." Clarke chuckles. Raven looks at her uncertainly. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

Raven sighs, resigned but hopeful.

"Ask me then." The mechanic watches Clarke. It was different when she witnessed how the blonde asked Anya. Up close and with Clarke's blue eyes unwaveringly searching her very soul, Raven barely finds the strength to keep the contact. She pities anyone who might be unwillingly subjected to that gaze.

"Serve me, Raven Reyes," Clarke commands. Raven wraps her hands around the vessel's forearm.

" _Sha_ , Wanheda."

Once the dust settled, Death stepped forward.

Raven fails to notice, too intent in inspecting the heptagram tattooed around the part of her forearm that Clarke gripped. Anya takes the time to do the same, lost in the memories she had with _Leksa_. She wonders what had become of her _seken_ even as she is grudgingly baffled and impressed with _Klark's_ dedication to Heda. When the vessel had beat her to a pulp following their grand escape out of the Mountain, she'd known then that _Klark_ is dangerous. Untrained as she was, _Klark_ had managed to tackle her to the death-ridden ground – a feat that not many achieved. She remembered vowing that the _Skaigada_ would die but was forced to rethink it in her final moments, when _Klark_ seemed to wish that she had the power of gods to stop the terrible gush of blood after she was shot.

Anya hopes that _Leksa_ wasn't too hurt by her death. _Probably not_ , she thinks, _moba, seken_. She is snapped out of her thoughts when Death spoke.

"The seven-pointed star branded on your skin tells anyone who remembers the legends of my past vessels that you are Clarke's to command and care for," Wanheda explains.

"It symbolizes the seven foundations of being one with Wanheda: wisdom, compassion, strength, humility, justice, bravery, and hope," Clarke continues, unaware of the look of approval and pride that Anya sees Death radiate. The general had not been alive long enough to witness _Klark's_ growth, but she supposed that if her short time with the blonde was anything to go by, then there is much for Anya to see.

"When she calls, it will burn and guide you to where she is. If there comes a time when you will need her help, press your hand against the star, and she will come to find you. Remember that to be ours does not save you from the clutches of Death," Wanheda warns. Clarke nods, understanding what she wanted to say as the past vessels explained it in her mind. Raven and Anya nod at the information.

"So…" Raven starts, a rare look of uncertainty on her face. "Your Majesty, Your Highness, Your…Death?"

Wanheda and her vessel chuckles.

"Just Wanheda is fine, Raven."

"Right, Wanheda, what's going to happen next? I mean, being friends with Death is cool and all, but it's kind of pointless if we aren't going to do anything. I'm assuming you and Clarke have plans?" When Raven next opens her mouth for another barrage of questions, Anya appears out of nowhere, delivering a hard knock on the mechanic's head.

" _Shof op!_ "

"You shut up, cheekbones!" Raven glares, looking offended that someone knocked some sense into her. Anya only scoffs.

"I'm not even talking."

"You just did!" Raven retorts, and Anya grimaces.

"Just… shut up, Reyes."

Whatever retort Raven had was cut off by Wanheda's bone-chilling chuckle. The mechanic is gonna have to keep an eye on Clarke because if she's going to have the same laugh, then forget about hiding the fact that she's a vessel. In the meantime, Raven exercises patience.

"To answer your question, Rae, we're going to travel back in time." Yep, okay, nope, forget about patience.

"That's not possible," she blurts, willfully ignoring Anya's eye roll. Honestly, grounders are so gullible, someone could probably spread rumors about a new god, and they'd come to worship it. Clarke ignores them both.

"We've gone through two timelines. The first is our original. The second ended when I killed myself," Clarke pauses at the stricken look on Raven's face. "Don't worry, I won't do it again."

"You better not, Clarke. I don't care if you command Death, I'll drag you out of hell and kill you myself," Raven threatens.

"Noted," Clarke says. "Anyway, there is one last timeline left set before we were even sent to the ground. That's where we're going back. Based on the first two timelines, I know that being sent to the ground and the events at the Mountain are where the crossroads are, so to speak. We can't make a decision on what to do with the latter just yet, but I have a plan for the former."

"What is it, _Skai Prisa_?" Clarke wonders if Anya will call ever call her by her name.

"Well…"

\--------------------

"Are you ready, Clarke?" Wanheda asks her vessel quietly, knowing that Lexa and her father weighed heavily on her mind. 

"I don't think I'm ever ready for anything," Clarke answers, smiling tremulously. "But this time, I feel terrified and excited to do something good for the world."

"We'll be okay," Raven says, unintentionally hearing the conversation and deciding to step on the other side of Clarke to grip her hand. The mechanic feels the callouses that litter the blonde's hand, and Raven thinks that she should stop calling her princess. Clarke's squeezes her hand and draws comfort from Wanheda's comforting hand on her shoulder and the steadiness of Anya's presence beside Raven.

"Let's go then."

\--------------------

When Clarke next opens her eyes, it is on a scratchy bed, the endless cold of the Ark, and her parent's voices just outside her room.

She draws in a deep breath, not quite believing that she was back to a time when her father was still alive, and her mother is only in love. Tears gather unbidden in her eyes, listening to the low rumble of her father's voice – a comforting melody that she ever only heard in her dreams on the ground. She wonders what she'll feel like when she sees Lexa powerful and regal and very much alive. She'll be a mess, she thinks.

Before Clarke's thoughts can run away from her, she feels the familiar warmth and comfort of Wanheda calling out deep in her soul.

 _Good morning, Clarke_.

The voice flutters into her mind, and Clarke remembers that she isn't alone. She doesn't have enough words to express how comforting that is.

 _Good morning, Wanheda_.

Slowly, Clarke rises from the bed, cataloging where her body feels thinner than it should. She's lost the muscle she gained by running from certain death, jumping from cliffs, and fighting wars. On the bright side, she feels light. She knows exactly what she needs to strengthen, which makes the earlier pang in her chest all but vanish. There are wars to fight, after all. There is no time to wallow. Instead, she vows to use the time to be better than she was yesterday and a lifetime ago.

She looks at her hands, smooth and unmarred. _Not for long_ , she thinks. She runs them through her hair, and she thinks she'll need a haircut remembering how people used it to restrain her, to hurt her. She wraps her arms around her body, and she thinks about Lexa, who bled black blood and told her she was right, that life is more than just surviving. She's going to have to give her all to training, and she hopes that she'll be strong enough to catch bullets.

Moving slowly toward the door, Clarke gingerly twists the doorknob, unable to help her instinct to check if someone is going to barge in — a reflex that is a remnant of the past. Clarke feels that she won't forget any of it anytime soon.

 _Time to start a new beginning_.

And with that, she pushes open the all-too-familiar door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Ai gona - my warrior  
> Ai laik Klark. Ai badan yu op en no moun. - I am Clarke. I serve you and no other.  
> Ai laik yun. - I am yours.  
> Wanheda and Clarke's song is the Grounder Anthem  
> Badan ai op - Serve me.  
> Shof op! - Shut up!


	2. Hallway Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Raven's first couple of weeks back in the Ark as they navigate their way through ghosts and memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, okay, please don't kill me. I apologize for the late update. 2020 has brought with it the mother of all shitstorms. I hope y'all are safe. Wash your hands and stay at home. Also, please be nice to each other in the comments! Also, goddamn it, yes, Lexa's eyes are green. My bad. Edited my brain fart!
> 
> Right, then, let's fucking raise the curtains.

"Good morning, kiddo," Jake greets without turning around, too busy setting the table.

He doesn't see the barely restrained tremble that his words cause or the quiet but strangled breath that his daughter all but dragged into her lungs like it were cement, hoping to build walls upon walls around her fragile heart. He doesn't see Clarke dig her nails into her arm or the crescents they leave behind – tiny, little symbols of the years she spent dreaming of him. He continues to prepare breakfast like nothing has changed, and Clarke thinks that that might be why her feet are rooted to the ground, why her heart expands enough to break through its own walls, bleeding and scarred with the love she held for him even when nothingness took him away from her.

Jake doesn't see, and when he walks toward her to give his daughter a customary kiss to her forehead, he doesn't hear the thoughts that Clarke stomps down mercilessly until the screaming turns to whispers of the old pain she couldn't forget.

"Good morning, dad," she says, voice impossibly steady. _Why did you leave me? Why did you sacrifice yourself for the truth that meant nothing to the people close to you? Why?_ She swallows, drawing comfort from Death's quiet understanding.

"What's for breakfast?" Jake gives her a commiserating look before shooting a careful look at the kitchen.

"No idea. Your mother says it’s a surprise, but I'm honestly terrified."

"Terrified of what?" Abby says, entering the dining area with a steaming pan of scrambled eggs. Jake jumps, but Clarke doesn't react.

Her eyes rove her mother's face, looking for any signs of weariness, perpetual sadness, and stone-cold disappointment. She finds nothing but a woman who looks at her husband like he hung the stars and the moon for her, someone who gives her a gentle smile, seemingly proud of something as simple as having her daughter notice her.

Clarke feels a bittersweet pang in her chest. She'd forgotten how happiness looks on her mother, so much so that the person standing before her is a stranger. She remembers her as the woman who caused her husband's death, who blamed her daughter for the lives she took to save her people, and who, despite the blood drenching her whole, still sees her as a child. She supposes that she's going to have to rewire her brain if she's to give her mother a chance.

"Good morning, mom." Abby's grin widens as she leaves the pan on the table. She walks toward Clarke and doesn't hesitate to wrap her arms around her daughter.

"Happy 17th birthday, sweetie," Abby says.

And there's another thing that Clarke has forgotten. On the ground, there was no time to think about birth and beginnings. All she had time to do was to figure out how to delay death and how to survive. It's been so long since somebody expressed that they were happy she was born. It's such a stupid thing to want, but now that she's aware of it, the pain from her past stings just a little more.

"Thanks, mom," Clarke says as she sinks against her mother's embrace. She hears her father stand up from where he was perched on the dining table, and a second later, she feels his strong arms wrap around them both. She beats down another sob, wondering how many more of those she'll need to stow away for later.

They stand together for a few minutes before Abby pulls away to explain that she made Clarke's favorites for breakfast. Bacon and eggs, toast and coffee, the whole shebang. Clarke lets the chatter around her continue all throughout the affair.

Inside, her mind races. Today is September 13. A little over a month from now her father will be floated and she will be imprisoned. A year later, she and 99 other kids will be sent to the ground to see if it's livable. If she's to enact their plan, then she's going to have to do something and fast. And the first step is to see Raven.

"Hey, dad?" she interjects as soon as the conversation lulls. Jake hums in acknowledgment. "Do you think I could go with you to engineering today?" Her parents' incredulous faces prompt her to rush through her explanation. "I mean, I still don't know if I'll fall in love with what you do like what I feel for mom's job, but I'm 17, and I want to try new things." Clarke cringes. _Try new things_ , really?

 _You could have done better,_ Wanheda says with a laugh.

 _Hush_. And she knows that she just shushed the goddess of freaking death, but right now, she's too embarrassed to care. Besides, Wanheda seems to be amused if her silent laughter is anything to go by. Clarke chances a look at her parents. Luckily, Jake seems to buy her weak excuse as he beams with happiness. Abby looks contemplative but understanding.

"The clinic isn't overcrowded at the moment. I'm sure Jackson and I can handle it by ourselves today," her mother says, making her husband beam even more if that's even possible.

"I'm liking this new you, kiddo," Jake says, ruffling Clarke's hair. "Alright then. We're going to spend the day in engineering unless Thelonious needs me for something. God knows that man can't function without me."

Clarke forces what she hopes to be an excited smile even as she is filled with anger at the mention of Jaha. Instead, she focuses on seeing Raven in the land of the living. Clarke hopes she's faring better what with seeing Finn, alive and well, again. She doesn’t know how she'll react to seeing him, knowing that he was the one who killed children, women, and men in her name and then forced her to save him from a cruel death. She has no love left to give him, but she knows that she will always care for him. Now, more than ever, she hopes her mechanic is okay.

\--------------------

Raven is sat on the floor of her office in the engineering department, hands moving on muscle memory and mind far away from the radio she's building. She'd woken up in her room, knowing that she was, without a doubt, back in the Ark based on the stench of alcohol her mother left behind. She's gone, dead before she turned 13 years old. And just like every morning, Finn came knocking on her door, waiting to have breakfast with her. It was a simple act that she drew comfort from like a man in the desert desperate for water. She'd moved unconsciously, her body used to the memories from a lifetime ago.

When she opened her door and was greeted by Finn's gentle smile, all Raven could see was blood. Dead children, dead Finn. She stood frozen, unhearing of this boy's concern for her, and when he wrapped his arms around her and told her she was safe, she felt nothing. There was no trace of the butterflies she'd once held for him, no frantically beating heart at the sight of him, and no smile of pure happiness that she once greeted him with. She felt nothing, and she thinks that that's why she feels sick to her stomach. Because this Finn has yet to do anything, and still, she can't un-see all the things he did for the girl he said he loved, the girl he left her for.

There was a time when she blamed Clarke and called her a murderer. She'd been unable to see past the knife she held against Finn, blind to the fact that the blonde had seen atrocities that only Anya shared in their repulsion. She blamed the Commander for the punishment that forced Clarke to kill the man they both loved. And instead of seeing the blood on Finn's hands, she saw it on Clarke's thinking that if he hadn't loved her, death wouldn't have followed him.

And then Raven was subjected to death by a thousand cuts. She'd not lasted more than four, but when she bled and screamed and cried, she thought of Finn the murderer of countless families and how Clarke chose to give him the peaceful death he didn't deserve. She'd been so blind. She'd turned and blamed the blonde even as Raven would sometimes catch her by a river, hunched and bent and scrubbing her hands raw. She'd turned and called her a murderer, ignoring how Finn willingly picked up a gun, willingly aimed it at anything that moved, and willingly slaughtered an entire village in exchange for a Clarke who wasn't there.

Now, when she was wrapped in his arms, Raven felt nausea, and she wriggled out of the embrace and told Finn she needed time alone. She watched as he looked lost but ultimately respected her wishes, telling her that he'll come by to drop off her rations when she's ready. She vaguely remembers nodding, too lost in her memories and in how she'd blamed everyone but him for his leaving and for his crimes. She vaguely remembers the door click shut, separating her from the man she used to know. She slides down from the wall she doesn't remember leaning on and on to the floor, placing her head against her hands hoping that it would stop the screams, both hers and others, from ringing in her ears.

She takes breath after breath the way she did when her leg brought too much pain and her heart brought her down to her knees.

She doesn't remember walking to her office. All she remembers is the intense need to see Clarke, to apologize to her.

As if summoned by nothing but the deep-seated pain that rests heavy in her soul, her office door opens and in came Jake and Clarke Griffin. Raven remembers that she has yet to meet Clarke in this life and so finds it in herself to school her expression, drawing on the strength that the blonde emanates and swallows the apology that she wanted to give to Clarke.

"Hey, boss," she says, hating the way her voice broke in the middle. She clears her throat and tries again. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

Jake laughs, and this time, Raven isn't blind to how Clarke's body seems to lean closer to the sound. _And then there's dear old dad_ , she remembers taunting her, _his blood is on your hands too_. Raven thinks that she and A.L.I.E. didn't hurt Clarke because she didn't want to face the truth. They managed to hurt Clarke because she'd said the words that must have haunted her day and night.

"I want you to meet my daughter, Clarke. It's her 17th birthday today," Jake says with a big smile on his face. Raven turns to Clarke and gives her a small wave.

"'Sup, Princess? I'm Raven Reyes, the youngest Zero-G mechanic in–," the mechanic greets.

"50 years, I know. My dad talks about you a lot," Clarke says.

"52 actually, but who's counting?" Clarke smiles, and Raven resists asking how she can when there's a ghost beside her, taunting her for her failures.

Before Clarke can piece together a retort, the engineering department's PA system rings. Raven sees Jake sigh before shooting an exasperated look at the speakers.

"Jake Griffin, please report to the Chancellor's office. Mr. Jaha would like to speak with you," it says. Raven watches Clarke tense, seemingly fighting to stop herself from preventing her father from seeing the man. Her jaw is clenched, and if she listened hard enough, she might hear the sound of grinding teeth. Jake doesn't notice. Then again, Raven wouldn't have noticed if not for the wars she and the blonde fought together.

"Guess that's my cue," Jake says. "Honestly, I haven't even been in the office for five minutes." He turns to Clarke, who gives immediately gives him a reassuring smile even if it's sharp around the edges. Raven takes pity on her.

"It's alright, boss, Clarke can stay here while you go see what our Chancellor wants," she interjects before the blonde can say anything.

"Is that alright with you, kiddo?"

"It's okay, dad. Maybe Raven will get me interested in engineering better than you," Clarke says, and Raven admires her a little more. Jake turns to Raven and gives her a grateful and pleading look that she waves off.

"Thanks, Raven. I better head off before Thelonious bursts a vein."

And with that, Jake walks off, closing the door behind him.

For a full minute, neither moves. Raven watches Clarke stare at the door as if willing it to open and bring her father back. She sees the storm in beautiful blue eyes, the tension in deceptively fragile shoulders, and the fear in the nails that dig into the skin of her hand. Raven is glad that she's not the only one struggling with their new reality.

The mechanic decides to snap her out of it just in case the blonde bursts. She approaches her, carefully and slowly as one would walk toward a wounded and wild animal. She whispers her name and knows that Clarke heard her but does not turn away from the door.

" _Clarke_ ," Raven whispers again. This time, stormy blue eyes descend on her, and she can see the power hidden in her soul and knows that Clarke, more than anything, is terrified. Risking a limb, she places a hand on the blonde's arm, trailing down slowly until she can pry smooth fingers away from a fist. Clarke allows her even though Raven knows that she could have pulled away. Maybe the blonde knows that her mechanic needs the contact just as much as she does.

"There are ghosts," Clarke croaks. "There are ghosts that walk the hallways. They hug me and tell me to eat breakfast. They ruffle my hair and wish me a happy birthday. They kiss my forehead and say they love me."

Raven does not pause in her work, taking each of Clarke's stiff fingers and squeezes it as she pries it away.

"They knock on my door and greet me good morning," Raven responds, trusting Clarke know who she's talking about. "They embrace me and ask me if I'm okay. They leave and promise me that they'll bring breakfast."

The hand in hers pulls away, and a beat later, Raven finds herself in Clarke's trembling arms. They do not cry, they do not break, and they make no attempt at comforting each other. They simply grip each other as much as their weak bodies allow, relying on the other for warmth and for strength. And when they pull away, they do not have tears to hide nor doubt to vanquish.

"So, what's the plan?" Raven asks as she moves to sit on the floor. Clarke follows.

"It's a month before dad finds out about the oxygen situation. I know we just "woke" up but where are you at with the radio?"

"I'll have at least two working radios in the next three days," Raven answers. Clarke nods expression thoughtful. "And before you say anything, I have a plan for the Ark's pod. Working on the one we used when Praimfaya hit gave me lots of ideas, so if your timeline is a month, then I should be able to make it work. I remember most of what Becca wrote on her journal, including the last entry – the one before she was sent to the ground."

"Can you make sure that one of the radios can send long-distance signals? We need one for Anya and one to contact the Ark when we're back on the ground."

"Yeah, I can do that. I mean, we won't know until we're actually on the ground if it works, but my memory is as awesome as I am. This remembering and going back in time thing is really useful," Raven chuckles. "I can't imagine doing everything blind. Again."

"Same," Clarke responds, giving her mechanic a genuine smile. "Is there anything I can help you with? We both know I'm useless when it comes to wires and stuff, but if you need help, I'll do my best."

"Nah, I'll manage. I can get any materials I'll need. In the meantime, you need to worry about your dad, that bitch Diana, asshole Shumway, and… just about everyone who can screw everything up."

"No pressure, right?" Clarke jokes. "First things first, Diana Sydney needs to be taken care of. We can't have her taking the Exodus ship just in case none of the escape pods you find can fit at least two people. If we can somehow prove that Sydney's plotting a coup and somehow implicate Shumway in the process, then we'd be hitting two birds with one stone. The question is, how?"

"You could recruit Bellamy," Rave suggests. Clarke shakes her head.

"The only way that I'll be able to get Bellamy to follow me is if I threaten Octavia. I'm not doing that." Raven nods, acknowledging the blonde's refusal to use love as a bargaining chip.

"What about Wells?"

"I thought about that too, but he loves his father even though he doesn't agree with how he does things. He's a goody-two-shoes, he'll feel too guilty to do anything I'll ask him to do, and he'll probably end up telling Jaha before we can gather evidence," Clarke says.

"Murphy won't do anything for the upper class, so he's out. Octavia isn't supposed to exist, and if this thing goes sideways, Bellamy's gonna come for your head, which means he'll do anything to sabotage the future of _Skaikru_. Jasper's too gullible right now, and Monty's not going to go anywhere without his best friend. And Finn…" Raven lists.

"No, we're not involving Finn in this. He's too trigger-happy," Clarke interrupts. And loathe as she was to admit it, Raven knew the blonde was right.

"Then, we're running out of options, Clarke."

The vessel pushes herself up to her feet, pacing as fast as her mind is racing. Wanheda is curiously quiet, and Clarke gets the sense that she's waiting to see what their answer will be. They need someone who can skirt around the council, someone with power, and someone whom she can trust with any measure of truth she deems necessary for them to know. They need someone who will follow her to the ends of the Earth.

Before she could list her people again, they're interrupted by the door opening.

"Hey, girls," Jake greets.

And just like that, Clarke has her answer. If they do this with her dad in the know, it'd be easier to sway the council. He's close to Jaha enough that she knows the Chancellor will at least listen, giving their plan a fighting chance. She'd be able to stop him from going public about the oxygen situation, thereby saving his life.

 _Yes, Clarke_ , Wanheda coos, the goddess' pride filling her up and making her stand straighter. Clarke turns to Raven who was already looking at her, a look of pure shock overtaking her features. The mechanic shoots up to her feet.

"Clarke, no," she says, shaking her head. If they involve Jake, then they will have to tell him about the ground and what awaits them. They would have to tell him about the impossible situation they are in. But most importantly, Clarke would be risking her relationship with her father, and _she just got him back_. If he doesn't believe in their truth, then Clarke will forever be his insane daughter and the blonde will never be able to trust him with anything.

"What's wrong? What's happening?" Jake is ignored.

"Think, Rae," Clarke says. "You're a genius, aren't you? Can't you see?" Jake is wholly confused. He opens his mouth but is cut off by Raven.

"There has to be another way!" Clarke gives her a sad smile, well aware of the risk she's taking.

"There isn't. Not with the time we have. You know he's our best option."

"But–," Raven begins to argue, unable to deny the validity of the blonde's conclusions but determined to stop it from happening. Her mouth snaps shut as Clarke lifts a hand. The action doesn't escape Jake's notice.

"It will be alright," Clarke says, only half believing her own words even as Wanheda echoes the sentiment at her doubt. Raven hesitates, struggling to see where Clarke gets her strength to keep doing the impossible. She doesn't think she'd be able to do the same, and it breaks her heart to know that she'd intentionally made every choice Clarke had to make harder with her judgment. It is this realization that makes Raven nod, deciding to trust the blonde in the way she wished she did in their past life.

Clarke gives her a grateful albeit shaky smile before she turns to her father.

"Hey, dad. You might want to sit down."

\--------------------

When Jake woke up this morning, he'd hovered over Abby and wished her good morning. They spent half an hour just lounging on the bed, tangled in each other's arms, and talking about Clarke's birthday. He was proud of his baby girl. She never gave them trouble, and when she did, it was always for good reason. _They bullied him_ , she said when she returned home with a broken nose and bruised fists. _It wasn't okay_ , she insisted as if challenging her parents to disagree with her. And then there was that time when she skipped all her meals for the day, and the only reason he and Abby found out was that their daughter looked sickly pale. When asked about it, _there's this girl who lost her parents. They floated them for stealing, and I didn't think it was fair to let her suffer_ , she said. She gave all her meals to the little girl. Even as a teenager, Clarke never went through the rebellious phase they dreaded. She was kind, and Jake couldn't be prouder.

This morning, something was different. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was that made the hair at the back of his neck stand up, but he knew that something was definitely not right. Clarke was quiet over breakfast, and he had wondered if she could feel it too. Now, as he watches his little girl pull him to the floor and as Raven seems to automatically cover the blonde's flank and sitting just a way from his daughter, he thinks that maybe that something that didn't feel right is Clarke.

Now knowing where to look, he observed Clarke. He'd watched her silence Raven's protests with a kind of quiet power he'd never seen her wield. The mechanic and his daughter only supposedly met today but when he catches Raven shoot a look of concern at his daughter, Clarke nodded immediately. He wonders when the two really met if they could hold silent conversations like they had known each other for years.

When Clarke turned to look at him with the same fond smile, Jake feels warning bells ring in his head. Something about Clarke had changed overnight, and upon close inspection, his daughter seemed… older, somehow. There is ancient knowledge in her eyes and old pain in how the blue shines. Unbidden, he remembers the seniors of the Ark.

"We need to talk, dad," his daughter starts. "There are things about this world that I want to tell you about, secrets that could change everything. But before that, humor me, please. I know that the Ark is not meant to last; it is only meant to delay our return to Earth. How long do you think we have?"

"I don't know," he answers truthfully, even as he is unsure about where Clarke was going with this and even as he noticed the confidence in her voice that wasn't there before. "If we're lucky maybe another decade. Why?"

"And hypothetically, why would the Ark be unable to support life in 10 years?" This time, he doesn't hesitate.

"The Ark's overpopulated. The resources we have are limited, and we're unable to support more than 2,000 people. That's why we're only allowed one child per family. If we don't control the population, we're going to lose more air, water, and food, and eventually, we'd have to return to Earth and hope it's survivable."

He watches his daughter nod as if she'd known that that would be the answer.

"What's going on, Clarke?" He asks, unable to resist his curiosity. In the corner of his eye, Raven looks at him like she wants him to wait, and Clarke's responding smile told him to be patient. He bites his cheek and allows his daughter to lead him to wherever this conversation is going.

"How would you be able to tell that the Ark is dying?"

"Well first, we need to check the oxygen systems. There's only so much it can produce, and while the engineers of the Ark predicted that it has enough oxygen for 150 years, they didn't exactly account for how big the population will be today. We can survive a few weeks without food and water, but the moment the oxygen system fails, then we're goners."

"Have you checked it recently?"

"Not yet, but the annual assessment is scheduled for next month," Jake answers, and Clarke nods again. His daughter pauses long enough for Raven to start fidgeting. When she finally opens her mouth, Jake feels the world as he knew it crumbles beneath his feet.

"We don't have a decade, dad," Clarke says as gently as possible.

"What do you mean?"

"The oxygen systems are already beyond repair. We have a year, maybe two, before we're forced to go back to Earth." Jake doesn't understand.

"What?"

"The Ark is dying, dad, and it's too far gone to stop," his daughter answers, and that still doesn't explain anything.

"How do you know that? How could you possibly know that?" Raven gives him a sympathetic smile, but it doesn't register.

"Because this already happened," Clarke takes a deep breath and looks straight at him. "Dad, we traveled back in time."

He laughs. He doesn't know when his daughter was able to think of such a prank, but he had to admit, they almost had him going there. He laughs and he laughs and he laughs. He laughs until there are tears in his eyes and until his stomach begins to groan in protest. And when his laughter died down to giggles, he looks at Clarke and Raven only to find solemn faces staring back at him.

"Okay, cut the act, kids," he gasps in the midst of catching his breath. "You got me." The two says nothing and Jake things they may have a career in stand up comedy. "Don't tell your mom I said this, but Clarke, you may be a better prankster and comedian than a doctor."

His daughter doesn't laugh. She only looks at him emotionlessly, and Jake ignores the dread he feels drop onto his stomach despite his firm belief that this was all a prank.

"She's not joking, Jake," Raven says as she places a hand against Clarke's back in a show of support.

"Ha ha, very funny, Raven," he snorts. "Seriously, kids, cut it out." Upon seeing that they're set on continuing the prank, he decides to humor them. "Alright, if what you said is true, what happens next in your hypothetical scenario?"

"You find out a month from now," Clarke responds, voice firm and steady and Jake finds himself suddenly worried about his daughter's apparent ability to lie. "At first, you attempt to fix the problem, hoping that you'll be able to squeeze out a few more years from the oxygen system. You tell the council, who tells you to work on it quietly. And then when it becomes clear that neither you nor Raven nor Sinclair can do anything about it, you tell mom that you want to let the people know because they deserve to hear the truth. Mom tries to stop you, and in the process, I overhear your conversation. A few hours later, I find you in your office recording a video about the situation that you intend to post. Mom tells Jaha about your plans, hoping that your best friend can stop you."

"Clarke–," He tries to interject, alarmed at the tears that gather in her daughter's eyes and the way she looks at him like she's looking at a ghost.

"I told you that I wanted to help, that I believe in what you think is right," Clarke continues, feeling Raven grip the back of her shirt. "You told me no. You told me that you want to keep me safe."

Clarke stands and towers over her father.

"The video doesn't make it to the public because Jaha doesn't just try to stop you. He arrests you and me. And that leads me to my final memory of you." Clarke chokes at the memories, tears falling steadily on her face and Jake finds whatever he wants to say lodged in his throat.

"The last time I saw you, you, me, and Mom are at the floating chamber."

"Stop, Clarke," Jake says, unable to hear where this is going and unable to find it in himself to believe his daughter. She ignores him.

"Mom doesn't cry and I fall apart as you give me your watch to _remember you by_ ," Clarke spits. "You walked to the floating chamber with your head held high, and when Jaha opened the doors, you were gone in a blink of an eye."

"Clarke."

"Mom wrapped me around her arms even when I felt her die the moment space claimed you. I blamed her and Jaha for a very long time for having caused your death. I blamed myself for not having done enough, and I blamed you for leaving us, for sacrificing the life we could have had with you in favor of a truth that no one heard," Clarke finishes, her breathing heavy.

He watches numbly as Raven stands and makes her way over to his daughter to place a hand on her shoulder. He watches Clarke stare at him for a moment longer before she tears her gaze away and forcibly shutting her eyes as if to protect herself from the memories he didn't understand. All he knows is that no one could possibly make up the kind of pain he saw in Clarke. He's an engineer, and he doesn't believe anything that doesn't have proof, and his heart clenches when he realizes that his own daughter's pain isn’t enough to make him believe in something as mundane and as impossible as time travel. Raven speaks, seemingly reading his thoughts.

"Ask for it, Jake," the mechanic says, looking at him as if daring him to do exactly that. Shifting his gaze on Clarke's form, he makes up his mind.

"Do you have proof?" He asks, unsure as to why his gut believes that Clarke and Raven's insane explanation might hold some truth in it.

Raven steps away from Clarke and toward her desk. She wakes her computer and pulls up the command center.

"I can hack into the Ark's mainframe. I can't be in there for long because the council knows of my affinity for… illegal shit. But I can give you enough time to see what you need to see without risking our necks. Look carefully, boss. Otherwise, there's no point," Raven says as her fingers move across the keyboard and the screen faster than Jake can follow.

He perks up when he sees the words "life support system" pop up, and within a few taps and clicks, Jake is staring past the firewall and looking straight at the details on the oxygen system.

"How did you…" His words are cut off when he sees a particular figure on the screen. The Ark's prediction for the timeline of the tanks is down to a little over a year. One year and four months to be exact. Frantically, he searches for the speed at which the oxygen is consumed and finds that it is well above 100 liters per minute, making the 10-year deadline nothing but a dream.

Jake gasps, hands gripping Raven's desk as if it were the only thing keeping him upright and refusing to look away from the screen even as the mechanic speedily exits everything. No one speaks for a long time, and when someone does, it's Raven's voice that flits to his ears.

"I know it's hard to believe, Jake," she starts. "But what Clarke said is true. A year from now, 100 kids from the jail, including your daughter, will be sent down to the ground and, as far as we knew at the time, to their deaths. There was no other option but to check if Earth is survivable. Earth is where I met your daughter."

Jake sighs, stomping down the urge to let everyone know about the issue. If what Clarke said is true, then his princess has already lived a life without him. Never again. Not if he can help it. He approaches Clarke, who looks at him like he was nothing more than a product of her imagination as if she was expecting him to fade before her.

"I don't know if I quite believe in time travel yet," he says. "But I do believe in you, kiddo. You have never lied to me before, and I'll choose to believe that over this crazy, impossible reality you say we're in. I just have one question to ask."

Clarke tilts her head, and Jake smiles.

"You're not on drugs, are you?" The kids laugh as Clarke steps into his embrace.

"No, dad, I'm not," she mumbles into his shirt.

"We wish though," Raven snarks behind them, and Jake lifts an arm from Clarke to tug the mechanic into his embrace.

"Don't you dare," he says.

\--------------------

It takes time for all three of them to compose themselves. By the time her tears dried, Clarke is overcome with a calm she didn't know she could achieve in this situation. She watches her dad who seems to still be struggling over the knowledge he now holds. He wonders if he will ever believe in her and Raven's truth.

 _He will_ , Wanheda says, her voice automatically loosening the remaining tension in Clarke's shoulders. _I've not seen a father like him in centuries. You are lucky, ai gona_.

 _I am_. _What should I do next?_

 _Tell him about the woman and how she seeks to reap nothing but destruction. And when that situation is resolved, we will tell him about the ground._ Clarke nods, agreeing with the goddess' advice.

 _I'll tell him about being part goddess another time. I don't think he's going to survive another shock_. Wanheda chuckles.

 _Quite right you are_.

"Why tell me?" Her dad asks, and Clarke recognizes the question for what it is: an opportunity.

"We need your help, dad. There are things at work that we can't do anything about because we’re not in a position with power," she explains. "For one thing, there's Diana Sydney, and for another, there's Jaha."

"Wait, hold up. Diana, as in the previous Chancellor Diana? What does she have to do with this?" Her father asks, visibly confused.

"She staging a coup."

Clarke and Raven launch into what they know happened in their original timeline. They tell him about Diana's intentions, hiring Shumway to get Jaha killed, and roping Bellamy in the mutinous process. They withhold telling him about Octavia in the meantime, deciding to stick to only the necessary information. They can tackle everything else as it happens. For now, Clarke knows that if her dad is to help them, he's going to need time to gather evidence and present it to Jaha. When they finished their explanation, her dad looks like he's seen a ghost – an experience that she can understand. Raven shoots her a worried look, and Clarke knows that they're both wondering if it is at this point that her father will decide to walk away.

"I can't believe it," he says, and Clarke's heart drops to her feet. "Diana? Shumway I can definitely see; I never liked the guy. He was always too violent for my liking. But Diana? Damn, she seemed to be alright with Thelonious' election. Apparently not, if she's planning a coup. This is a mess."

Clarke allows hope to show on her face.

"So… you believe us?" She asks. Jake looks at her properly.

"As I said before, Clarke, I don't think I can believe time travel yet, but I believe that you're telling the truth," he says, eyes nothing but honest. "Besides, you may be an artist, kiddo, but I don't think neither you nor Raven can concoct something of this magnitude. No offense."

"None taken, boss," Raven responds.

"Why can't we involve anyone again? This seems like a problem that requires a few guards or 30, or you know, _your mom_ ," he cringes and Clarke knows he remembers just how angry his wife can get.

"Well first, we don't know who's loyal to Jaha and who's loyal to Diana. Shumway controls them, and we can't risk being found out. Second, the council would likely order their death, and ours, if they found out about what we think Diana is planning to do. They're not above torturing us for information, and we don't have time to recover from that," Clarke says. "Third, if we go to Jaha without evidence, he's not going to believe you, and we'll either be chucked into the psych ward or escorted to the floating chamber. Fourth, mom is right in the previous timeline. Telling the people will only cause panic, which will lead to countless deaths and, not to mention, increased consumption of oxygen."

"Fifth," Raven interjects. "Frankly, Mama Griffin is _terrifying_ , especially if she thinks we've got a loose screw. She's going to need a hell of a lot more proof and maybe even stick needles into us. And let me tell you, I don't have a single good memory of anything that involves needles. Did you know that those little things can suck out your _bone marrow_? Anyone who can even _hold_ needles is a no-no for me."

Jake looks all the more confused, but Clarke knows that Raven's remembering their unfortunate time in the Mountain. That's a memory that going to come up at some point, but not today.

"Except your daughter here, of course. She knows I'm awesome and would never _dare_ to make me her pincushion if she can help it." Raven throws a pointed look at Clarke, who hums noncommittally. The mechanic is alarmed.

"And why do you need me to present the evidence to Thelonious?" Jake asks, deciding to revisit that conversation at a later time, preferably when they aren't threatened by oxygen deprivation.

"Because Jaha won't believe anyone else. To him, Raven and I, even Wells, are just kids. We don't have power here, dad. He'll see us as a bunch of teenagers looking to wreak havoc. Raven will get floated, and I'll be stuck in the Skybox. Again," Clarke explains, shuddering. "And we need him to believe us. When he asks what we want in exchange for keeping our mouths shut, and he will because his leadership is fragile, then we have fighting chance."

"When did you learn how to play political games?" Jake asks, astounded by his daughter's ability to manipulate people.

"Another life."

"Right, well, I've got a truckload of questions to ask, but it's dinner and your mother is going to skin us alive if we don't get there on time. I'll think about what I can do about Diana, but I expect you to answer all my questions. Both of you," he says, narrowing his eyes at both Clarke and Raven. They nod, and Clarke turns to her mechanic.

"I'll see you tomorrow after my shift at medical," Clarke offers her forearm to Raven, who takes it without hesitation. "Stay sane."

 _Don't get lost in the memories. Don't let the past define what you do today. Don't leave me to do this alone._ Raven hears everything that the blonde wants to say. She gives her a shaky smile, mind on Finn and whichever ghost she'll see next. She nods.

"You too."

\--------------------

This time, when he sets the table up for whatever his wife cooked for dinner, Jake keeps an eye on Clarke, cataloging everything that isn't consistent with how she was acting yesterday. This Clarke stands up a little straighter and walks almost without a sound. She seems to be doing it unconsciously like it's a habit of hers to move to places without anybody noticing. His daughter managed to sneak up on Abby, who let out a little shriek and almost dropped the food when she found Clarke behind her, done with washing her hands. Clarke is equally startled, taking a step back and a hand going to the back of her pants as if searching for a gun that isn't there.

"Jesus, Clarke, I'm going to put a bell on you one of these days," Abby says. He watches as his daughter forces a smile, takes a deep breath, and loosens her clenched fingers.

"Sorry, mom," she says.

Over dinner, Jake watches her subtly grimace at the food, which he found weird considering they always got the best rations courtesy of their position and Thelonious' affection for them. Nevertheless, Clarke shoves the food in her mouth, but it doesn't look like she's chewing at all. This Clarke zones out a lot more but responds when she is expected to. Her gaze is far away, and Jake finds himself wishing he could follow. He's still not sure if time travel is a thing but his daughter is so different in ways that anyone couldn't possible change overnight. Maybe he's starting to believe it, and he is terrified. Because if it is the truth, then Clarke lived and was hurt and he wasn't there to protect her.

It is these thoughts and an ever-growing list that Jake falls asleep to for the next week. Clarke spends time at medical, and when she's at engineering, she's locked into a conversation with Raven. He wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't keeping such a close eye on her, but Clarke looks like she hasn't slept in days. Her eyes are glazed, movements slow and sluggish. Her responses are clear and lucid but with every day that passes by, she takes longer and longer to reply.

He shouldn't be surprised when Raven notices and calls her out on it.

They were in Raven's office talking about what Jake has managed to scrape about Diana and Shumway. He had just explained that he and Thelonious were invited to dinner by Diana and that he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to get an idea of what the former Chancellor feels about the way things are after Thelonious replaced her. He was also explaining that he planned to approach Abby's best friend, Callie, in hopes that she'll allow him to study security footage for a while. Clarke had been quiet through it all until finally, Raven turned to her and saw that his daughter seemed to be sleeping with her eyes open. He moved to stand but Raven stopped him, putting a hand on his arm and halting his hasty movements.

"Clarke," the mechanic says. His daughter doesn't react. Raven turns to look at him. "Let me handle it." Grudgingly, Jake nods, sitting back down and letting the mechanic approach his daughter.

"Clarke," she says again, this time moving to Clarke's line of sight as if she wanted the blonde to know exactly where she's coming from. Jake feels the beginning of a headache with all the things he doesn't seem to understand.

"Clarke, come on," Raven urges. She's just a few feet away from his daughter, and he watches the mechanic hesitate before lifting a hand and placing it on Clarke's shoulder.

The reaction is instantaneous.

Clarke's head snaps up, and from his position beside them, Jake thinks he saw her blue eyes glow. A fist flies out and Raven barely avoids it before grabbing his daughter's wrists with a grip so strong that he can see the mechanic's knuckles pale from the effort.

" _Clarke!_ " Raven snaps. When the blonde finally looks at her, breathing heavy, and arms still fighting to break free from the grip, Raven smiles. It takes a while for reality to register, and Jake finds himself frozen in shock.

"Raven?" His daughter croaks, blinking herself to awareness several times. The mechanic in question loosens her grip but doesn't let go.

"Hey. Yes, it's Raven. I'm not going to hurt you; you're safe here. It's okay, it's okay." Jake wonders how many times she said the words for it to sound like a mantra. "There's only me and your dad here. We're in the Ark, far away from danger. You're safe here."

Raven repeats the words, and little by little, Clarke comes back from whatever memory took her. When her breathing is even once more, the brunette lets her wrists go. Jake finally finds the strength to get up. He moves toward his daughter, deciding to follow the exact path that Raven took to get close to her. He resists the urge to shiver when blue eyes watch his every movement. Raven tenses as he moves behind her, and she doesn't relax until he's well within her periphery. Not for the first time, Jake wonders what these two kids went through together.

"Are you okay, Clarke?" He asks. His daughter gives him a shaky nod.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, but I gotta say, you have lightning fists there, Princess." Clarke gives her an apologetic look that Raven waves off. "Don't worry about it. I did the same thing to Wick once, but unlike you, I kicked him in the groin. Dude couldn't walk straight for _days_."

Jake watches the blonde sigh as the mechanic's humor flies over her head. She combs a hand through her hair, and he is struck by how tired Clarke looks, how the bags under her eyes seems to carry a whole lot more than sleeplessness, and how her shoulders slump in exhaustion.

"When was the last time you slept, Princess?" Raven asks, taking the question right out of his open mouth.

He worries about how Clarke needs to contemplate the answer.

"I don't think I've slept since we got back to this timeline," his daughter croaks before looking sadly at Raven. "Ghosts."

And that doesn't make any sense to Jake, but it seems to explain everything to the mechanic, who immediately softens at Clarke's admission. He watches Raven move closer to the blonde as if pulled by the pain he doesn't understand but knows they share.

"Can I… can I sleep here?" Clarke asks, voice shy and defeated. "I don't know if I can sleep anywhere else."

"Sure," Raven whispers as she moves to help the blonde recline the chair she's sitting on.

Jake makes an effort to keep his questions to himself, preferring instead to watch the brunette pull out a blanket from her office drawer. She tucks his daughter in and pats her head – a gesture that Clarke seems to appreciate as her body melts into the chair.

She surrenders to sleep within seconds.

\--------------------

Though distinctly aware of how Jake has fallen silent beside her, Raven can't help but watch Clarke a little longer. She's afraid that the universe won't let her friend sleep longer than a few seconds, afraid that the ghosts she sees will speak to her. She understands because it wasn't easy for her to fall asleep since they got back, since she first saw Finn. She knows, more than anyone in this godforsaken ship, that sleep isn't easy for the wicked. She feels a weight drop on her heart knowing that Clarke has taken more lives and is haunted by countless ghosts. She hopes with everything she has that the blonde is granted peace in her dreams.

She laughs, manic and lost, because she knows that peace is nothing more than a hopeless wish.

"Raven," Jake whispers. "Explain."

The mechanic hears the command that Jake rarely uses, and she can't help but think about how he'll probably shit his pants if he were unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of Clarke's unyielding orders. She thinks that Anya will probably scoff if Jake uses the same tone on her. After all, there's nothing more intimidating than the Commander – except the Commander of freaking Death, that is.

Suddenly, Raven becomes aware of how her thoughts seem to be helping her stall the impending conversation. She sighs.

"Come on, boss," she says as she turns to lead Jake to the far side of her office without checking if he's following her.

Raven drops to the floor and leans on the cold steel wall, determined to keep an eye on Clarke. She doesn't acknowledge Jake as he moves to sit next to her.

"I can't tell you everything," she starts, keeping her voice low and quiet. "But there's a reason why your daughter is terrified of sleeping."

"What can you tell me?"

Raven fixes her gaze on the worried father beside her, who looks frustrated with all the things he doesn't understand. As a person who leans on the side of picking things apart to understand how it works, she understands Jake to some level.

She stops stalling and goes for the cold, harsh truth.

"There are people on the ground."

Jake splutters.

" _What_?"

"There are people on the ground," she repeats, turning her gaze back on Clarke, leaving the engineer to his disbelief. "There are thousands down there, and I know you find our reality hard to believe, but this is the truth. I wouldn't believe it either if I didn't see it for myself."

"But _how_? No one could have survived the bombs!" Jake hisses, seemingly struggling to keep his voice down.

"Some of them did. They adapted to the radiation, and they learned to thrive," she continues. "There are clans, and they're led by one person. _Heda_ , which means commander."

"You mean to say that while we escaped to space, there have been people who have thrived on the ground?"

"Yes. In our timeline, we crashed near a village called TonDC. We didn't know that there were people, and the only reason we found out is that Jasper, a kid from Farm Station, got speared. The people down there, Grounders we called them, are hardened and harsh because that's the only way to survive the ground."

Raven turned to look at him, a sad smile on her face.

"But you wouldn't believe how beautiful Earth is, boss. The Ark feels like a prison compared to what we've seen and touched. I know Clarke wishes you saw it."

Jake heaves a weary sigh. The mechanic can see the thousand and one questions he has, and she thinks that if the roles were reversed, she'd feel exactly the same way.

"So what does this have to do with why Clarke isn't sleeping?" 

Raven turns to her friend again as she tries to figure out the best way to tell him without revealing everything. Beside her, Jake fidgets in discomfort at the notable tension suddenly invading their space.

"You'll have to ask Clarke for the details," she starts, worrying her bottom lip. "But she's seen the stuff of nightmares and horror movies. I mean, we both have, but what your daughter has seen and _survived_ doesn't even come close to what I lived through."

"What do you _mean_?" Jake asks, burning a hole through her head.

"As I said, you'll have to ask Clarke yourself, but let's just say that there are things that are far worse than death."

\--------------------

_When Clarke opens her eyes, she is greeted by the sight of a room that held both her sweetest dreams and worst nightmares. She paces around, lifting a finger to touch the candles that she knows Lexa hoards. Her gaze doesn't leave the bed where she got to know a different Lexa – one that she's sure few have seen. Her heart whispers in longing and she feels the yearning from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She doesn't regret choosing Anya and Raven, but she knows that a part of her (the one she hides and buries) longs to have Lexa by her side, to have green eyes look at her like she's her world, to have calloused and hardened hands guide her to a body that withstood pain and suffering and life._

_She hopes with every fiber of her being that the Lexa in this timeline, the one who knows nothing of the love that can survive mountains and wars, will once again open her heart for Clarke. If that time comes, then she hopes that she'll be able to catch stray bullets._

_"She will, and you will."_

_The voice catches Clarke off-guard and she whirls around to face Wanheda, who seems far too proud of herself for getting the drop on her. She glares at the goddess._

_"You know, one of these days, you're gonna have to stop doing that," she says, glaring when Wanheda only chuckles._

_"One day, yes, but not today," the goddess says noncommittally._

_"So, why am I here?"_

_Wanheda looks around the rook like she's only realizing where they are before she returns her gaze on Clarke, gaze soft and soothing._

_"I wished to give you rest. You have not learned to stop your nightmares and so I nudged your subconscious to a place where you most felt safe. Otherwise, you'd have woken up screaming." Clarke nods, accepting Wanheda's statement as if it was nothing new. "I cannot protect you from horror forever, ai gona. You must learn how to temper the voices, how to talk to your ghosts, and how to make friends with your demons. You must learn to find comfort in horror."_

_Clarke rakes a hand through her hair, only slightly surprised to find that it was not as short as she expected it to be. Wanheda walks toward the bed before sitting on it._

_"How do I do that?" Clarke asks._

_"When the nightmares start, you must let go and submit to their words. You must not run or hide or fight back. They are ghosts, Clarke, and their words are yours. It is you who teaches them what to say to hurt you. Take what they say and what you wish to hear, wrap them around your heart, and when you can no longer take the pain, think of this room. They will follow you here because this place is not an escape. It is where you draw comfort and strength to fight your battles."_

_"Why do I need to do all that?"_

_"Because for your wounds to heal, you need to learn how to treat it. The scars in your mind are ripped open and bleeding, and as a healer, you know that you need to examine it, disinfect it, and leave it to seal. It will not heal if you only let it be, if you ignore it, if you run away from it."_

_Clarke sighs, old and weary, before she moves to sit beside her goddess. It is hard to face the things that hurt you and even harder to find a reason why it should not. But if she is to move forward, she needs to not be afraid of taking that step._

_"When you go back to reality," Wanheda starts, "try to make use of this Ark's gym. Strengthen your body so you won't have to be so afraid of not being able to protect your people and your love. It won't lessen the voices, but it will give you hope. And at the end of each harrowing day, all you need to get to tomorrow is hope."_

_"Yeah," Clarke says._

_Wanheda turns her body to her vessel, the earlier tension dissipating into nothing._

_"So, tell me about Lexa." The words bring a smile so fragile on Clarke's face, and Wanheda thinks that she chose well._

_"Well, she honestly looks like a raccoon…"_

\--------------------

When Clarke wakes, she finds herself staring at the lamp lights of the Ark, and her first thought is the rise and fall of the sun on Earth and how those who volunteered for the Culling never got to see it. The thought is enough to rouse her. Groaning, she sits up, her back protesting the way she slept.

"Hey," Raven greets her. "You slept well?"

Clarke looks at her friend who's sitting at the table beside her.

"Yeah," she says, voice laden with sleep. "Not enough though. Where's dad?"

"He went to that dinner with Diana the Bitch and Jaha the Ass. He says you can stay with me for the night if you want, and he'll update us in the morning. Don't worry about your mom, he'll talk to her."

"Yeah, okay."

Clarke gets up, gratefully accepting the cup of coffee that Raven offered. Seeming to sense that the blonde needs to gather her wits about her, the mechanic turns to the radio she was holding and starts to tinker with it. Clarke is grateful for the few minutes of quiet that follows and serenely drinks her coffee as her mind echoes the stories she told Wanheda. Judging by the time, she'd been asleep for six hours, the clock beside her steadily tick-tocking close to midnight. Her dad's dinner should be wrapping up any minute now.

"Wanheda says we should hit the gym," she says. She watches incredulously as her words cause Raven to accidentally stab her radio with her screwdriver.

"Did you tell her she's crazy if she expects me to inhale sweat?"

Clarke chuckles.

"She made a valid point, you know. When we get sent to the ground, we won't survive if we're slow and weak."

"Clarke, I've never been to the damn gym. Can't we wait until we're being chased by crazyass grounders and missiles to muscle up?" Raven asks, voice dripping with sarcasm. She glares when the vessel only seems amused.

"Rae, when that happens, we can't afford to be as weak as we are now. The last timeline, remember?"

"Speak for yourself. I'm not weak, bitch. I can outrun you."

"Yeah? I dare you to prove it then."

\--------------------

In the morning, Raven ends up going to the damn gym. One of the _extremely_ buff men approached them when they were trying to figure out why a huge ball was in the middle of the sweat-ridden place. The man, Peter, appoints himself as their instructor, and 30 minutes later, the mechanic has never hated Clarke more than she does now.

They lay on the ground panting while Peter insists they get up to finish the other half of their exercises.

"You know, _pant,_ I'm gonna kill _him_ , _pant_ , then I'm gonna kill _you_ ," Raven vows, turning to look at the panting blonde beside her.

"I think, _pant_ , I'm gonna kill him, _pant_ , and Wanheda, _pant_ ," Clarke says, seeming to hate herself more than Raven hates her. 

"Come on, girls! Get up, get up!" Peter says, before reaching down to haul them both up.

Raven and Clarke give out a deep-seated groan of exhaustion, and they both resist the urge to strangle the man because his fucking neck is as thick as their thighs.

He pushes them to the ball and instructs them to do crunches. And really, after doing circuit training, _everything burns_. They don't have time to protest though because Peter gives them a stern look before counting loudly.

"1!" Raven is gonna die.

"2!" Fuck, Clarke.

"3!" Fuck you, Peter!

The mechanic continues to fill her brain with expletives, and that's how they survive the stability ball. Peter herds them in front of the ropes next, and Raven plots his goddamn murder.

After they've done more than they thought they needed to do, both girls lay on the ground, again, lungs screaming for air.

That's how Jake and Abby finds them.

"I thought I heard Raven," Jake greets, peering at the mechanic and his daughter. Abby stands beside him, confused.

"What's going on?" She asks.

"Oh you know, we're discovering our love for the floor and plotting how I'm gonna murder your daughter and Peter here."

"I think, _fucking pant_ , I'm gonna kill myself first," Clarke gasps.

Jake laughs, thoroughly amused by the sight of two girls on the floor and the buff man grinning proudly at them. 

"Clarke," Abby starts, still confused. "Are you being bullied?"

The mechanic bursts into a short bout of laughter before wrapping an arm around her middle and groaning in pain.

"Mama G, don't make me laugh. It hurts."

"No, mom," Clarke says in between gasps. "Just thought I'd try to work out. I'm regretting it now."

"Hi, I'm Peter, I'll be taking these girls under my wing if they decide to come back after this."

"Nice to meet you, my name's Jake and this is my wife, Abby Griffin," Jake responds. "Well, come on, girls. Time for breakfast."

Both of them refuse to move, and Peter has to haul them up to their feet despite Raven's cussing and Clarke's complaining. When they step into the shower, Raven thinks, _fuck sex, this shower is heaven on Earth_. Breakfast makes the girls realize that they're ravenous and starving and so they wolf down their rations before staring pleadingly at the Griffins, who give the rest of their food to the blonde and her mechanic all the while looking so damn amused that Raven resists stabbing her boss and his wife in the eye. When they finally make it to Raven's office (after much protest from Abby and Clarke's _mom, I really, really need to sit and not move_ and _I'll work in the clinic when my legs don't feel like deadweights_ ), both girls struggle and groan all the way down to their seats.

Jake continues to snicker.

"Boss, I swear to all that's holy, if you don't stop laughing at us, you'll find this screwdriver up your ass," Raven threatens as the blonde beside her glares at him. 

"Language," he says before lifting his hands in surrender at the murder positively written in their eyes. "Alright, alright, sorry."

"So, what happened at your dinner?" Clarke asks, rushing to change the subject. It works like a dream as both her dad and her mechanic sobers at the question.

"Diana definitely hates him," Jake starts to explain. "I actually can't believe that I didn't see it before but now that I know what I'm looking for, it's so obvious."

"Thinly-veiled hatred isn't proof though," the mechanic responds.

"Yes, but I also met with Callie before we found you two at the gym. I managed to set up a meeting time with her while Abby was talking to a family member whose sister's in the clinic."

"You'll be looking for Shumway and Diana, dad?"

"That's the plan. Although I'm not sure how I'll convince Callie to let me see any footage."

"Well, you can always tell her that you got an anonymous tip on a threat to Jaha's life," Raven pitches. "Tell her what we told you: that she's the only one you can trust on the security detail because you don't know who's on Diana and Shumway's payroll."

"When are you meeting her, dad?"

"Later this afternoon, while Abby's in surgery."

They spend the next couple of hours discussing the possibilities and ramifications that could come from their plan. Raven refuses to move beyond twitching her fingers and the occasional nod. She knows the blonde feels the same considering she's attempting to be as still as a statue. Jake can't help the snickers that escape every single damn time they grunt and groan from unintentional movements. A few minutes before her boss is set to leave, she notices that he seems to have remembered something important.

"Oh, by the way," he starts. "Clarke, Raven says you've got a few stories to tell me – like how there's an entire civilization on the ground."

The blonde chokes on nothing and she finds herself torn between coughing and imitating a statue.

"What – How – _What_!"

"Well, she didn't actually say anything more than how there are thousands on the ground and how they're kept in line by a commander."

Raven catches Clarke's barely-there flinch at the mention of her Heda. She wonders if the cause is longing or pain. Then again, the mechanic thinks, _what's the difference between the two?_

The blonde is flustered and struggling for composure, and Jake decides to put her out of her misery.

"Don't worry, kiddo, I won't ask you if you're not ready. I know you know that I wish you'd tell me, but the last thing I want is to dredge up memories you don't want to remember." His words make Clarke look at him like he'd just given her the sun.

"I'll tell you, dad. But maybe after we've got what we need?"

"Sounds good to me," Jake responds. "Okay, kids, I gotta go."

"Bye, boss!"

"See you later, dad."

Clarke waits a few seconds before using the tips of her toes to painfully swivel the chair toward Raven. She levels her a glare, and the brunette hurries to lift her hands up in surrender, resisting the urge to groan because who in the name of the holiest of fucks knew that muscles can be so sore beyond sex.

"Hey, it's not my fault you didn't sleep and he got worried!" she defends. "Besides, at least now you have the time to plan what you want to say."

"And what the hell am I supposed to tell him?"

"I don't know. How about 'hey, dad, I led a bunch of hormonal, aggressive, criminally-inclined teenagers, fell in love with a raccoon warrior leader thingy, brought down a torture mountain, and you know what, TL;DR, everything was shit,' does that work?" Raven says, shrugging.

Clarke looks at her like she's lost her damn mind.

\--------------------

"Hey Callie, how are you?" Jake greets, moving forward to wrap his arms around his wife's best friend.

"Good, good," Callie pulls away to lead him to the security room. "Mind telling me what this is about?"

Jake hesitates, unsure if he should follow the girls' advice. If his experience in the past week has taught him anything, it's that people are not always what they seem. At one point, Raven and Clarke would act like typical teenagers, and at another, they'd act like they're lifting the world on their shoulders. He doesn't want to think about it, but he knows that before telling Callie anything, he's going to have to determine where her loyalty lies despite the fact that she would never do anything that could potentially disrupt the peace on the Ark.

He pulls them to somewhere private.

"What do you know about Diana Sydney?"

"The previous Chancellor Diana?" Callie asks, understandably confused. At his nod, the woman ponders his question. "She wasn't really that memorable as a leader if that's what you're asking. She was a bit too violent for my taste though, but then again, Jaha's kill-everyone-who-breathes-wrong laws are just as appalling. Sorry." She apologizes, knowing Jake's close relationship with the current Chancellor.

"It's alright, I don't agree with his ideals and he knows that. Would you know if there's even been a coup in the Ark?"

"As far as I know, none. We're all told the same: don't waste your time rebelling because there's nowhere to run."

Jake nods at her assessment.

"What are you getting at, Jake?" Callie asks, and he knows that she's starting to feel cautious. "Are you about to do something stupid? You know Abby will literally skin you alive, right?"

"No," Jake chuckles. "I wouldn't be the one to do something stupid, but if what I'm thinking is right then Diana might be the idiot in this scenario."

"Why?"

"I think she's staging a coup against Jaha with the help of Shumway."

Callie's eyes bulge, undeniably rattled by his theory.

"I don't have proof yet, which is why I'm coming to you for help. There's no one out there I trust more than you, and it's dangerous to recruit helpers if Diana's got Shumway in her pocket. I don't know who they work with, but I'm willing to bet my money on some high-ranking officials that aren't as attached to Jaha as I am."

"What makes you even _think_ that there's something happening?"

"I have a feeling," Jake says, ignoring Callie's incredulity. "You have to trust me on this, please. I can't explain how I got the feeling, but I honestly think that there's something going on. I'd rather be wrong of course, but just in case Diana's really doing what I think she's doing, then we won't be able to stop it if we find out too late."

Callie's disbelief stops short realizing that though he may be going crazy, he's got a valid point. She grumbles and paws at her face in exasperation.

"Whether it's in asking Abby out or proving conspiracy theories, you've always got a screw loose. I can't believe she fell for you," she says, rolling her eyes at his pleading eyes. "Fine, what do you need from me?"

Over the next few hours, they pour over the security cams trying to identify some form of sense that could help them determine Diana's endgame and Shumway's role in the shitstorm that Clarke and Raven described. For a while, the information wasn't forthcoming and Jake can admit that he'd begun to question the validity of the girls' claims. That is until Callie made an eagle-eyed observation.

"Jake," she begins, speedily bringing the footage back a few seconds. "Isn't that the Factory Station representative?"

He narrows his eyes to the tiny figure in front of Diana and vaguely recognizes the representative's unique hairstyle. Suddenly, he was reminded of another person that Diana was talking to. He didn't think anything of it considering how the conversation seemed to happen as naturally as two people who knew each other meeting in the hallway.

"Can you pull up the Council Room's hallway cam? The one from two days ago."

Callie wastes no time in complying, immediately bringing it up.

"Do you recognize him?"

"He's the security guard stationed within the Council Room. His name's Brian, and if I remember correctly, his daughter is one of Abby's long-term patients."

They repeat the process four more times, each time identifying the guard on rotation with Brian, the Armory manager, the Mecha Station representative, Riley Zimmo, who was thrown into Prison Station after lighting a bonfire in her quarters. They pulled up all available records on the people they've identified and realized that one way or another, each of them needed something. A wife to be floated, a daughter to die without the right resources, a prison sentence to reduce, and a ratio to increase for two. The only person who didn't seem to need anything is the Armory manager.

"I've talked to him before. Guy has an ego the size of Russia. He acts within the laws though, and that's why no one questions him," Callie recalls.

Jake ponders the information they have, unsure of what to make of it. He knows that they're connected somehow but without confirmation, the proof he's obtained will be nothing but speculation. He turns to Callie.

"Can you print me a screenshot of these encounters?"

"Of course. What are you gonna do?"

"I need to ask for help."

A few minutes later, he compiles the photos and the corresponding records for each person into a folder. He hastily thanks Callie who only nods. When he finally makes it back to Raven's office, he stops short in his tracks. Both girls were asleep, rather soundly if the drool on the brunette's chin is anything to go by. His daughter has curled into her own seat, and though it seems to be uncomfortable, he can hear her soft snores. He carefully closes the door and moves as quietly as he can into the room, before dropping the files softly on the desk. He didn't want to wake them, but he thinks they'd rather have their sleep cut short than waste valuable time. Making sure his footsteps are loud enough, he approaches them carefully, the last incident when Clarke fell asleep fresh in his memories.

"Clarke, Raven. Time to wake up," he says gently. His daughter had already begun to shift the moment he walked toward them. "Girls." The blonde lifts her head to look blearily at him, eyes and movements heavy with sleep.

"Hey, dad," she croaks.

"Hi," he bends down to hug Clarke before letting her go and looking at Raven meaningfully. She understands and takes the time to stretch her body and popping her bones.

Clarke stands up and walks over to Raven before placing a hand on her mechanic, shaking her gently.

"Rae," she whispers. "Dad's here."

Raven doesn't move, the epitome of a person dead to the world. Clarke rocks her harder and when he brunette doesn't give a response, she sighs apparently used to her friend's sleeping habits. She slaps her in the face. Soft enough to not be alarming but hard enough to startle Raven into the waking world.

"Huh? What? Where?" She lifts a hand to her cheek. "Did you just _slap_ me?"

"You wouldn't wake up," Clarke shrugs, amused. "Dad's back."

"Coffee, first, trying to save the world, after."

"Yeah, okay."

Slowly but surely, both girls gather their wits about them. It takes them a while but eventually, they end up with steaming coffee mugs in their hands, contentment heavy in their bodies. Without thinking about it, they sit on the floor without any hitch or hesitation in their steps and Jake wonders why. He stashes the thought where the ever-growing list of questions exit in his mind.

"How'd it go, dad?"

Jake launches into a recounting of what happened in the past few hours and drops the considerably thick folder in front of them. They sift through the information as they listen to his story.

"We couldn't figure out what the connection is between these people but we do know that both Diana and Shumway have taken an interest in them."

Clarke hums, seemingly wracking her brain for ideas. Jake resists the urge to interrupt their thought process and so waits patiently to see what they come up with.

"Raven, what's in Factory Station that could be of use to an armory?"

"Depends. That station handles everything that may be reused or recycled. Could include a truckload of things, but if they have access to more sensitive stuff like gunpowder or anything flammable, then the armory could definitely use those."

For some reason, Raven's explanation seems to have triggered Clarke to remember something, her back suddenly straightening and abruptly looks at her mechanic.

"Hydrazine!" His daughter's exclamation the same recollection in the brunette.

"Oh my god. They're making a bomb, or bombs. Shit, Clarke, Unity Day bombing."

"Wait, hold on, what are you guys talking about?" He asks, unable to hold his curiosity and alarm in place.

"The Unity Day before I got imprisoned, four council members and Marcus Kane's wife were killed in a bombing," Clarke begins to explain. "The same day, Diana and her followers took an Exodus ship and brought it down to Earth. I'd never made the connection because I thought that the extent of Sydney and Shumway's movement only extended as far as blackmailing Bellamy to shoot Jaha, but if we’re right, all these people have either been blackmailed or recruited to help create the bombs that are set to go off on Unity Day."

"Bellamy?"

"Bellamy Blake, Factory Station, he's one of the people who dropped down to Earth with me. He snuck in because of his sister, Octavia Blake," Raven explains.

" _Sister_?" Jake hisses and then sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before pinning both girls with a stern glare, suddenly realizing that despite his earlier words, he's not gonna be able to help them if he doesn't understand anything that's happening beyond Diana's supposed coup. "I think it's time to really sit down and talk, yes?"

They have the decency to looks sheepish before the mechanic looks at his daughter in question. Clarke seems to realize the implications of what he's asking and her expression sobers to one of trepidation and fear. The brunette turns to him.

"You might want to call Abby and tell her that we'll be here for the night."

Jake hastens to comply, internally relieved when his wife tells him that she'll be up all night monitoring a patient. During his conversation, he notices Raven and Clarke's whispered conversation, and as each second passes, both girls seem to harden even as the mechanic seems to be comforting his daughter. He hangs up the phone.

"Abby says she won't be home tonight. Would you like to move this to our home?"

They nod, and he herds them to his family's quarters, Clarke immediately falling on the couch, Raven not far beside her. He gingerly sits on the armchair in front of them and watches as the blonde sits forward, elbows resting on her knees, and wringing her hands.

"Are you sure you want to know? Some things are better left unsaid, dad," she says, voice grave and quiet.

"I do," he confirms without hesitation. Clarke nods, expecting his answer. She looks up at him for the first time since he asked them to talk and he resists the urge to take back what he has said if only to bring jaded blue eyes into their usual vibrance.

"This story, _our_ story, is terrifying and you will come to realize the extent that humans are willing to go through to survive. All the horrors you could possibly think of, the violence you don't expect, and the pain that you may think is unfathomable will come to life. So, I ask you again. Are you sure?"

"Yes."

And then, Clarke smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes, defeat dragging her shoulders down, an entire life of suffering bringing ghosts onto her hunched back.

"I am responsible for the deaths of almost a thousand people. They call me the Commander of Death."


	3. Horror Stories and Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke offers the truth and Raven finds a place to belong while attempting to set the plan to go back to Earth in motion. Also, a brief look into Anya's new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. Fuck, 2020. This is unedited -- I wanted to get it up as soon as my mental health permitted it. Also, don't worry. I will finish this story, no matter how long it takes me.
> 
> TW: This chapter includes a description of what depression feels like to me.

Clarke breaks her heart wide open for him.

She'd known that as soon as they settle, and as soon as she sees her father's resolve, there would be no holding back. So, she placed her hands in the cracks of her heart and tugged and tugged and tugged until all the pain and loss and grief she held flowed forth for them to see.

She starts like this.

"I am responsible for the deaths of almost a thousand people," she begins, voice already wavering. "They call me the Commander of Death.

"You asked a while ago who Bellamy Blake is. He's Aurora Blake's eldest and the older brother of Octavia. Siblings are illegal on the Ark, so they hid her under the floor as often as possible. She was discovered during the Unity Day dance, and Shumway used Bellamy's protectiveness over her to manipulate him into shooting Jaha. If he succeeds, he'll guarantee him a place in the Dropship, where the 100, the prisoners, will be placed en route to Earth. And so, he did what he was told to do. He disguised himself as a guard to get close to his target and shot Jaha. That is how Bellamy ended up on the ship with Octavia and me."

Clarke regales the story of how she had panicked as they were escorted out of prison and into the ship and how Abby had explained that they were not going to be floated but they would take part in another death sentence. She told him about the bracelets and the harrowing experience of careening down to what they thought had nothing for them. 

"I woke up next to Wells and tried to stop Bellamy from opening the doors but was ignored. We were mocked -- what would we know about suffering when we were the privileged, they said. We ignored them and told them that we need to get food and water and go to Mount Weather," she spits the mountain's name in unbridled hatred. "That's when we got the chance to look around."

Her eyes glistened when she told him about the ground, how it looked, how it felt.

"When we arrived on Earth, we'd been nothing but teenagers who reveled in the feeling of freedom. We didn't know if the ground was safe for us, but I don't think any of us cared. After all, for as terrifying as it can be, the Earth is beautiful. Towering trees, flowing water, _the sun_. Everything about it made us forget about survival and we began to believe that we would be okay. That didn't last long."

She tells him of the river and how Jasper was speared, how they struggled to keep everyone alive, how they had to leave him behind. She tells him how they heard him scream and how they raced back to the river only to find nothing. She tells him how they survived, how they found Jasper, how they strung up Atom like cattle for kissing Octavia. She tells about the acid fog that threatened to take them all, how they were forced into hiding because of it, and how they found Atom.

"It was the beginning of countless nightmares. I found out that Wells took the brunt of my hatred and anger even though it was Mom who offered you up to Jaha on a silver platter. And then came the next day. We found Atom. He was covered in burns and blood. We didn't have the equipment or the supplies to treat him, but still, I told him I'd help him. I slid a knife into his throat and watched him die. He was the first person I killed. A day later, Wells dies because Charlotte, a little girl who suffered on the Ark, slit his throat. She dies too. She throws herself off a cliff in guilt."

Clarke tells him of Finn.

"There was this boy who came down with us. Finn," she says, before blindly groping for Raven's hand and feeling her slip it between the gaps of her hand as it trembles in unspoken apologies.

Raven gives her hand a squeeze and scoots closer to the blonde.

"He was Raven's boyfriend here on the Ark, but I didn't know that. He was on my side the moment we arrived. He protected me the best he could, and I think that might have been why we ended up together. Raven came down to Earth the next day," she says as softly as possible, unwilling to add salt to any wounds that might be open and bleeding. She turns to Raven. "I didn't know, _I didn’t know_. I never would have… you have to know that I could _never_ do that to you. Never again."

\--------------------

When Jake asked for them to talk, Raven thought that Clarke would choose to give a rundown of what had happened to them. She knew the story was long and never-ending, she lived most of it, after all. She knew that Clarke didn't want to relieve how the pieces of her humanity cracked and fell and crumbled. She knew that they were both terrified of what this conversation will do to their future.

Maybe that's why she didn't expect her friend to delve into the nightmares they called life and why she had stiffened in surprise when Clarke defied her expectations.

Hearing how the 100 started on Earth, learning how Atom and Wells and Charlotte died within their first week on the ground and mostly, hearing about Finn and finding what Clarke thought about him stung for reasons that go beyond petty jealousy.

When Clarke turned to her, still seeking forgiveness for a crime that seemed so insignificant in the face of what they continued to lose, Raven ached. She underestimated how much hurt Clarke's heart could hold and how much of it she used to punish herself.

"Clarke, I…" she begins despite not knowing what to say. "I've forgiven you for that a long time ago. You gave him far more than he deserved, and I might have been blind to that then, but not now. _Never again_ ," she says repeating Clarke's vow to her.

She watches as her confession chips away at the mask the blonde held in place. Clarke nods, grateful and speechless. Raven soothes her with a tender brush of her thumb on whitened knuckles, her tendency to use humor to cope with hard situations gone.

Jake clears his throat hesitantly.

"What happens next, Clarke?"

It takes a while -- it comes after she has explained why they got into a war with the grounders -- but when the blonde gets to how they blew up the bridge and was forced to treat Anya's then-Second, Tris, how she still died despite her best efforts, and how she slit another man's throat with a scalpel, Raven realizes that she's telling the story by the sequence of the deaths that she was responsible of and the deaths she ordered to happen.

She doesn't understand the emotion that chokes her but it feels eerily like fear; not of Clarke but of the things she has seen and lived.

Clarke tells them of the virus that caused panic within the camp and the undeniable knowledge that the grounders will attack.

"We didn't have anything to take on so many warriors at once, and we didn't have enough knowledge to wield the weapons they use. I suggested using the remaining rocket fuel from the Dropship. I asked if it was possible to spread it out around the ship so that if we end up surrounded and cornered, we could at least fight back. Raven told me she can do it and that's what we did," Clarke sighs, eyes faraway. "I ordered for 300 warriors to be burned alive. And so they did."

Clarke continues to tell him about the true nature of the Mountain, her time there, and what they did to them. She tells him that by the time they got to camp, the rest of the Ark had come down and that Kane had given up the Chancellor's pin to Abby. The story of how she escaped with Anya and how the latter eventually died made Raven reel and tremble. But the horror continues.

"He'd been looking for me. Finn was convinced that the grounders captured me and were keeping me away from my people. He wouldn't listen to reason," Clarke gulps, and Raven grips her hand. "When Bellamy and I got there, Finn had already killed 18 people in TonDC. For me. _Because of me_."

Raven knew that she wouldn't be able to stop any of the apologies that will come out after the story has been told, and hearing Clarke's profound grief for the 18 that Finn had killed on his own volition only served to bring her to her knees.

While she chokes gasps and sobs and apologies, Clarke continues without hesitation. She tells them of how the Council forgave Finn, how they found Lincoln as a Reaper, and finally, how she met Lexa.

"Heda was," Clarke stumbles for the first time since she began to talk and the mechanic tries to shove aside any anger she might have felt at the mention of Lexa's title. "She _is_ just a bit older than me. She's young and fierce and intimidating. When I walked into her tent, she was all I could see," she whispers. "She'd been spinning a knife, donning warpaint, looking every bit like she could kill me without lifting a finger. I told her that I wanted nothing but peace and that we could heal Lincoln. She didn't believe me, none of them did."

The blonde continues on to how Lincoln died and how they brought him back to life. Heda was convinced but told her that in order to gain the truce they need, they would have to give up Finn. Raven couldn't help the hatred and anger that burned her inside and out.

"I was faced with an impossible choice: give up the man I loved, the man Raven loved, for the sake of our people or protect him and risk hundreds of lives. Finn made the choice for me. He'll give himself up, he said. He was sentenced to die by a thousand cuts. The grounders will keep him alive until the very last cut. It sounds cruel, I know. But that's what the ground demanded from those who walked and lived on it."

The mechanic found it in herself to interject for the first time since they began talking.

"I told Clarke to kill Lexa – that's Heda's name," she swallows, grateful for the quiet and steady presence of the blonde beside her despite the way she trembled at the sound of Lexa's name. "I gave her a knife and told her that I owe Finn my life, so kill Lexa instead."

"I walked up to him, told him I loved him, promised that he'd be okay," Clarke whispers into the silence that followed Raven's words. "I slid the knife Raven gave me into his chest and killed him. I… I couldn't find it in myself to let him… to protect him over something as selfish as my love. I thought about everyone else. Bellamy, Octavia, Monty, Jasper, Murphy, _Raven_. And I couldn't do it."

A quiet sob – the sound that preludes tears and gasps and grief escapes Clarke. She pulls the blonde tight to her side.

"I know, Clarke. I didn't know then, but I know that now. You did good, Princess," she says soothingly, watching Jake stand up from his seat without really comprehending what was happening, too caught up in their grief, the harrowing heartbreak of losing someone you love.

It was Finn's nickname for her that finally got through to Clarke. Raven watches her friend's eyes widen in shock at the way she began to cry. It is then that Jake appears right in front of them. He kneels and takes a hand from both of them, his devastated comfort triggering choked sobs.

He doesn't say anything, and for that, Raven is grateful.

It takes a while but both their grief gives way to relief. The brunette feels it in the way her heart doesn't seem so heavy, her newfound understanding of what had happened acting as a much-needed salve to her wounds. She feels it in the way Clarke leans into her shoulder just a little bit harder, and Raven wonders how long the blonde has waited for the mechanic's forgiveness.

"Clarke," Jake begins, voice rough with lack of use, but still bringing their attention to him. He squeezes their hands. "Maybe we should stop for today. Get some sleep and rest."

"I want to tell you everything, dad," Clarke protests. Her father nods.

"I know, and you will, but maybe not all at once? I need… I need time to process everything you've said so far, and I know you and Raven are exhausted. Raven, you can stay in Clarke's room for the night. We'll have breakfast in the morning, and then when you're ready, we can continue this conversation. Okay?"

It's a testament to just how exhausted they are when none of them offer any resistance. Clarke nods against her mechanic's shoulder, mirroring Raven's own. He stands and tugs them up. He pulls them against his chest, giving Raven the kind of warmth that she didn't know she missed, the kind of warmth she remembers wishing would come from her own mother. She sinks into his embrace and wraps an arm around Clarke's waist.

She may have lost her family in her mother and in Finn, but maybe, just maybe, she could find a place for her with the Griffins.

\--------------------

Jake couldn't sleep.

It's been a few hours since they all retired to their rooms, and still, sleep evaded him. His ears hadn't stopped ringing and his mind is still reeling. He struggles to comprehend the gravity of what both girls have seen and lived.

 _They call me the Commander of Death_.

By his count, Clarke has only told him about more than 300 deaths – they still have more than halfway to go, and he finds himself terrified of what is to follow. He can admit that he didn't fully understand what it meant when he asked them for the truth, and he vows to never tell them that in this moment, he is both terrified of what the truth entails and horrified by what they have had to do.

 _They call me the Commander of Death_.

He forgives himself for what he feels tonight. Even with the stories that now plague his heart and mind, he has little understanding of everything that pushed and pulled the constant and recurring violence that changed his baby girl and her friend so irrevocably.

 _They call me the Commander of Death_.

His baby girl. The same kid who made him the happiest man on the Ark as he held her in his arms for the first time. The same kid, who he knew to be gentle but fierce, kind but protective. The same kid he vowed to protect, to support, to love. That same kid has thus far been thrown into countless situations where the only options were to kill or be killed. And for the first time since he was thrown the truth, Jake cries.

 _They call me the Commander of Death_.

 _My baby girl_ , he thinks, clapping a hand to his mouth muffle his sobs. He is deeply pained by the fact that he wasn't there to save her from such impossible choices, irrationally hurt by how she lived lifetimes without him, truly horrified that the world could push a teenage girl to slit a man's throat, to burn 300 people alive, to kill the man she loved. He realizes then that it is not what they have done that disgusts him but the circumstances that have forced 100 teenagers to grow up, to accept that torture and murder are part of the lives they were given. He is disgusted that innocence could be robbed so thoroughly by a world that demands unparalleled cruelty as compensation.

His baby girl, the Commander of Death.

Jake has never felt so devastated.

He doesn't remember falling asleep, but the next thing he knew, his eyes were opening to the automated lights of the Ark, acutely aware of just how swollen his eyes are. Abby hasn't come home, and he thanks the universe for small mercies.

He takes his time, going through his morning routine sluggishly and taking a moment to center himself.

When he opens Clarke's door to peek, he is greeted by an empty bed and a note attached in the middle of it. He walks further in and reaches for the note, recognizing Clarke's handwriting.

_Dad,_

_We're at the gym. Need to work some energy off and Raven says yesterday's session actually helped her sleep. Come find us when you're ready, we'll be here until after breakfast, I think. If we're not here, we're probably in Raven's office._

_I love you,_

_Clarke_

Unexpectedly, the note brings another round of tears, and he decides to stay in Clarke's room a little longer.

\--------------------

Clarke's entire body is shaking.

They were still sore from yesterday's session and adding another day of intensive exercise has her muscles screaming in protest. By the looks of Raven's murderous glare, the blonde assumes that she feels much the same way.

"Why did I suggest coming back?" Raven says in between breaths as she struggles to maintain her body in the plank position.

"Because we slept better than expected?"

"Next time I suggest more exercise, kill me."

"Noted," she says, laughing breathlessly.

They continue to go through the exercise as directed by Peter, and it's when they're handling the ropes that Wanheda decides to enter her consciousness.

 _How are you feeling, Clarke?_ The blonde grunts as she alternates between ropes, knowing what the goddess is asking.

_Better than I expected considering I may have just traumatized my father._

_You should give him more credit, ai gona. If it were any other father, you and your mechanic would have been chucked in a ward at best and floated at worst._

_True,_ she tells Wanheda, arms still fighting to hold on to the ropes. She lets her mind wander to the conversation that began last night. _I wonder how this will end. I wonder what this will change._

_Even I do not have an answer for you. But whatever comes after your truth has been told, know that you will not be alone._

_I know. Thank you._

The goddess retreats from her mind, letting her ponder how the consequences of telling her father the truth as it happened. Logically, she knew that there was no other way but forward, but that didn't stop her stomach from dropping to her feet at the thought of losing her father.

It is these thoughts that accompany Clarke throughout the rest of their time in the gym. She is grateful for Raven's silence as her mechanic seems to have picked up her contemplative mood. Clarke lets her guide her through the motions with a touch to her shoulder or a gentle push against her back. The blonde marvels at how their friendship has changed over the years and she knows that if nothing else, her connection with Raven will help her through whatever the universe has in store for them.

She only hopes that the brunette finds comfort in her presence as much as she does hers.

They wait in Raven's office, planning their next move after her dad has collected solid proof of Diana's coup or, at the very least, their role in the Unity Day bombing. So far, they've agreed to be there when Jake presents the evidence to Jaha, to let him explain the situation, and to interrupt the conversation only once Jaha asks him what he wants in exchange for his silence.

It is a couple of hours before lunch when Jake finally makes his appearance.

Clarke thinks he looks the way she must have after each life she took, and a part of her yearns to offer him her sympathy.

"Hey, dad."

"'Morning, boss."

Her father sighs and offers them a small smile and it's when he flops down on the empty chair they took with them on the way to her mechanic's office that Clarke realizes that the lines on his face are just a little deeper, his blue eyes just a little dull.

"You okay, dad?"

"No, not really, but I'd like for you guys to continue if that's alright?"

They nod and thus the horror continues.

\--------------------

Raven marvels at the way Clarke carries herself this morning. Even though she was lost in her thoughts in the gym and a few moments after, the blonde sits and stands straighter. There's a new kind of determination and hope in her presence, and she wonders if this is what relief looks like, what forgiveness can do to a person.

She knew that they talked about Finn and the things the brunette said to her friend before, but it had been nothing quite like last night's conversation. Seeing the pain that Clarke carried through the years, through wars, and through death had been more than enough to make her understand why the younger woman was born to lead, why she was able to carry all of them to peace even at the cost of her humanity. She realized that Clarke, who bled and cried and died for them, draws strength not in power but in love. And Raven vows to protect the heart that holds thousands. 

Briefly, she wonders if this is how Anya feels about Lexa.

As she begins her story again, the blonde's newfound reprieve shows in how her words flow better, how her body is open and relaxed, and how easy the smiles of comfort that she gives her father comes and goes.

Knowing most of what is to come, Raven zones out of Clarke's story and focuses instead on the man in front of them. She wonders what he must be thinking now. Even if she lived through most of what Clarke's story entails, hearing it told this way has her suddenly scared of what the ground may have waiting for them. Briefly, she feels a flash of pity for the man before she shoves it down and remembering that Jake decided to open this giant can of worms. Even after he found out the general theme of the story, he's still here. He doesn't deserve pity; he deserves respect.

"I tried to get there on time," Clarke's next words snap the mechanic back to reality. "But I didn't make it in time to form a plan. I told Lexa that they were going to send a missile to TonDC. She told me that if nothing else, we, as the leaders, should stay alive long enough to honor the sacrifice of the people. We ran and let the missile kill 250 of both our peoples. Octavia hated me for what I did. I hated myself for it, too."

The blonde continues on to the battle.

"The leaders of Mount Weather approached Lexa and gave her a deal she couldn't refuse. Her people's freedom in exchange for mine. She agreed. We continued to fight even with the grounders' betrayal – we had no other choice. Eventually, I spotted Emerson, called him through the radio, and told him to give his radio to Cage Wallace, Dante's son. I told him I'd kill his father if he doesn't let my people go. Dante told him to stay on course, and I shot Dante dead."

She pauses, and Raven knows why. This part of the story has taken much from Clarke, and it shows in how the blue loses its shine, in how she gazes at nothing and everything at the same time.

"I realized," she begins again, voice emotionless, face betraying nothing. "I realized that I had to choose: his people or mine. If those are the only options, then there is no question. I ordered Monty to bring the irradiation controls up. Bellamy and I irradiated them all, and I walked away from the Mountain as the murderer of 381 more people."

From there, Clarke breezes on to the rest of the story, from Pike's misguided leadership to A.L.I.E.'s attempt to save humanity by taking away their pain. She seemed to want to get it over with, and Raven can understand the feeling. She wasn't too excited to relieve any of it either, because really, the Mountain pales in what follows after. The blonde makes no mention of Lexa's death, and the mechanic wonders if it is a memory that she does not wish to remember or if it is a memory that is hers alone.

"I volunteered to go to the communication tower. If I made it back, then that's okay. But if I don't, then, I thought, it would be an honor to die for the people who protected me, fought for me every step of the way," Raven resists the urge to correct. _Clarke_ was the one who never wavered, after all. "I didn't make it."

\--------------------

It was well past lunchtime, but Jake doesn't think he can stomach anything. The thought of his daughter dying at the hands of a nuclear apocalypse was too cruel given everything that Clarke has had to do because no one else could. He closes his eyes and places his head on his hands, trying to remind himself that Clarke is well and alive. His daughter seems to know exactly what he's feeling because he feels her touch his knee gently as she whispers that yes, she's still alive.

It takes him a minute to get his composure back. When he lifts his head and hazes straight into Clarke's eyes, she gives him a tremulous smile.

"I survived," she says like a fact, like a promise. "I'm here, aren’t I?"

He resists the urge to scoop his daughter up and into his arms because there is still one final question that has been left unanswered.

"How did the time travel happen, kiddo?" His nickname for her felt inappropriate as soon as it left his mouth but he is steadfast in the belief that no matter what she has had to do and what she will do, she will always be his kid.

Clarke stands. She seems to hesitate for a brief moment.

"When the fire finally reached me, I thought I was definitely going to die. In a way, I suppose I did," she says as she makes her way back to her seat. "Instead, I woke up in what you would call Limbo or Purgatory or something.

Here, his daughter pauses, tilting her head to the side as if listening intently for something. After a beat or two, she nods.

"It was there that I met the Goddess of Death."

" _Excuse me?_ " He says, convinced he heard her wrong.

His disbelief is met with silence as Clarke closes her eyes and stands. He looks to Raven in question but the mechanic is already looking at his daughter, her face the picture of shock. She shoots up to her feet.

"Clarke! Are you trying to give him a heart attack?" The brunette hisses. His daughter pays them no mind and Jake finds himself instinctively preparing for the unexpected.

What follows has his mind screeching to an abrupt halt and he vaguely registers Raven's exasperation.

Clarke's blue eyes crack open, blinking once, twice, before her gaze comes up from the floor and rests on him. His jaw drops open as the blue he passed on to her begins to glow. She lifts her hands up stopping at waist level, palms facing up. He tears away from their eye contact to watch black smoke gather around his daughter's hands. 

"Don't be afraid, dad," Clarke says, voice sounding deeper but gentler, and he wonders if she can hear the pounding in his chest or the screams of disbelief stuck in his throat.

" _Hello, Jake Griffin of the Sky_." 

Clarke's voice takes on a different tone. She still sounds like her but not entirely just her. He scrambles back until he is stopped by the wall behind him, his eyes unmoving from the otherworldly being of Clarke and not-Clarke.

" _I wish you no harm. Please, calm down._ "

"Calm down? _Calm down?_ " He screeches. "Clarke, what the _hell_?"

It is then that Raven approaches him, takes one look at his shivering form, mutters a hasty apology, and slaps his chest as hard as she could.

It works. (They will spend the rest of their lives laughing about this moment.)

He registers the stinging from where her hand made contact and his gaze snaps away from not-Clarke to look at the mechanic, who is thoroughly unrepentant.

"Calm _the fuck_ down, boss. I know it's a shock, but that's still Clarke."

"Language," he says out of reflex. He takes a handful of deep breaths. "Just… just give me a minute here. What the _fuck_ is happening?" He mutters mostly to himself.

"Language," Raven says, obviously mocking. He glares at her as he scrambles for his bearings, gaze deliberately avoiding Clarke, who seems content to fade into the background for now.

It takes him longer than he cares to admit to find his sanity and manhandle it back, but eventually Raven's distraction works. If Clarke is who she says she is and she hasn't killed them all, then, logically, he knew she meant it when she said she didn't mean them harm. Logically. Emotionally, he'll deal with it later.

Reluctantly, he turns his whole body toward his daughter.

"Who _are_ you?" 

_"I am Clarke,"_ she begins, and Jake shivers. _"But I am also Wanheda. We are one and the same, and she has told me much about you."_

"Why are you here? Why are you with Clarke? Why…" he trails off, not knowing which of his million whys he should ask first.

 _"Clarke has asked me to explain, knowing that you will need proof,"_ the being in front of him explains.

She then launches into the story of how his daughter came to be the vessel of Death, the weight of what was asked of her, and the strength she showed through it all. 

Jake is desperate to know when the horror ends. He wonders when the world will stop asking Clarke for things that no one should have to give. Hearing that she had begged to be left in peace, to not be the scapegoat for all the horror, violence, and _death_ that humanity has partaken in, to not be anything more than Clarke -- everything made him feel a fraction of what he supposes his daughter feels every damn day since the Ark sent her to the ground.

The past day has taken a toll on his body. He feels it in the way his heart overworks itself to supply him with the oxygen he needs to hyperventilate, in the way his brain feels so close to exploding, in the way his head hangs down, unable to look at the life Clarke has had.

"So, this Anya, she remembers the previous timelines?"

"She does," Raven confirms. The mechanic rolls her sleeve up to show the seven-pointed star on her forearm. "This is Clarke's mark. It's what connects us to her."

Jake forces his weakened knees to move and promptly sits on the chair nearest to him. Everything was just so much to take in that he could feel his mind struggling to pinpoint where to even start processing. His daughter has taken on an inhuman task yet again making one impossible choice after another. A part of him screams in pride for raising her to be strong and brave, but another part of him is devastated beyond belief that it has to be his little girl.

 _She isn't so little anymore_ , Jake reminds himself, now knowing that Clarke has long since abandoned the innocence of youth and traded it for armor, for the strength to survive the worst.

He barely notices the silent tears that run across his cheeks.

It is only when Raven comes to stand in front of him with a heartbreaking smile on her face that Jake feels the tracks that his tears left behind.

"I would follow your daughter to hell and back, boss. Mark or not. And that's why I think it'll be different. She won't be alone. She'll have you and I to help her this time around."

 _"She is right. Carry yourself with pride, Jake Griffin of the Sky, for it is because of you that Clarke is the woman she is,”_ the goddess, _goddess_ , says.

Maybe it was the divinity right in front of him or maybe it was the way the exhaustion plagues on his bones. Whatever it is, Jake feels the pride that Wanheda says he should feel. So, he nods, unsure of what else there is to say.

_“Good. Raven, it was nice to see you again. You have done well. Clarke would not have survived this ordeal without your friendship and comfort.”_

The mechanic drops to a knee seemingly out of instinct and entirely out of character. Then again, Jake supposes, with everything that has been said in the last 24 hours, it would be hard not to respect Clarke as both human and Wanheda.

“ _She_ helped me, Wanheda. I only regret that I did not see it sooner,” she says.

_“Rise, Raven. There is no need to kneel, I am still Clarke and she would attempt to have my head if she thinks I forced you to bend.”_

Raven chuckles, complying with the request and agreeing with her assessment.

Clarke closes her eyes, the black that surrounded her receding back into her body. When she opens her blues to look at them, Jake notes how they have retained their glow. Abby would have a field day if she knew about their daughter being part-god. Both girls move to sit back down.

For a long time, there is nothing but silence. 

He suspects that it is more for his sake, especially considering how Clarke radiates serenity like someone who has finally let go of an unseen weight, like someone who has finally shared a well-kept secret. Raven fidgets beside his daughter and he knows it’s more because of how her inability to sit still than anything else.

Jake doesn’t know how to move forward. He won’t ever tell them, but he knows that it will be hard for him to look at them and see the teenage girls they are in this timeline. He doesn’t exactly regret asking for the truth, but he can admit that it might have gone better if he had allowed them to reveal each secret at their own pace. Nothing good ever comes from regretting what is done so he scraps this line of thought and asks himself what happens next instead.

He is aware that the answer depends on him. Part-god as she may be, Clarke has already made it clear that she would not have survived for as long as she did without the help of the people around her. So, he knows that although she may not need it, she wants his support. The thought softens his heart. He’d been apprehensive, he knew, but the thought of letting Clarke and Raven go to hell and back without him _again_ is unbearable.

In the end, this is what determines his resolve.

\--------------------

Clarke doesn't know what to make of the silence, but for once, she was content under its normally oppressing weight. Her heart felt like it had room to beat again -- she didn't know that it was cramped with all the guilt and pain she carried; she only knew that it was heavy in a way hearts should never be. She can feel Wanheda and the other vessels keen in the wake of her relief, both lamenting times long past when comfort was an unrealized dream and celebrating today with an ardor reserved only for battles won. Her relief is echoed throughout her being, and for the first time in a very long time, she doesn't stop the smile that threatens to turn into laughter.

Raven takes her hand and squeezes it, and she turns to her, wondering if their connection allows her mechanic to feel her relief and comfort and joy at the simple act of telling the truth. Her smile is mirrored with a promise in Raven's eyes that settles the minuscule part of her that had been anxious for forgiveness.

Nothing is more terrifying than the truth, and Clarke knows this. Then and there, she vows never to hide behind masks and pretenses again. Weakness it may be to some but she knows that she has always worn her heart on her sleeve, always ready to offer it to someone who needs to be loved. She was proud of this fact until the ground took and stomped and beat it until there was nothing left but a pile of wounds and scars that, try as she might, she could not stitch and heal.

It will never be the same, she knows. Even as she could sing in relief, she knew that the scars will continue to be there. She only hopes that the people she loves, those who knew and will know what it has been through, will handle her mangled heart with care.

Her thoughts are interrupted when her father stands. Instead of the door, she is pleasantly surprised to realize that he is making his way to them. There's no hitch or hesitation in his movements and he doesn't stop until he has them both in his arms. She sighs in his warmth, unapologetic in her greed to be held.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispers. "I'm also so unbelievably sorry and sad that I couldn't be there when you needed me."

"It's okay, dad. You're here now. If that's what you want, you're here now."

She feels more than hears his assent.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be, kiddo."

He pulls away, and Clarke can see the hesitation written across his face.

"What's wrong?" She asks.

"Does it… does it have to be you, Clarke? All this horror, all this pain, does it have to be you at the frontline of this war?"

She opens her mouth to respond, but Raven beats her to it.

"There's no one else better than her, Jake. Anyone else would give up and Clarke's too stubborn to do that. It's why the 100 followed her, why Heda listened to her, why Wanheda picked her. It's why I would follow no one else _but_ her," her mechanic says with such conviction that she can't help the tenderness that threatens to swallow her whole.

"No pressure, right?" She jokes and is rewarded by a chuckle.

"No pressure, Princess."

Her father nods, already expecting the answer.

"Okay, okay. What do you need from me?"

"Well, we need to bring Diana and Shumway down a couple of pegs," Raven says.

"And we need it because it's our bargaining chip. We'll force Jaha to send Raven and I to the ground hopefully in less than two weeks. And I need you to stay here, dad."

"If you _think_ that I'm going to let you both go, then _think again_ ," he hisses vehemently.

"I need you here, dad. Someone has to rein Jaha and Kane in plus keep mom from going off the rails. I need you here for when we let the Council know that there are people on the ground and stop them from waging wars we can't win."

"Clarke--"

"Please, stay here. No one else can and will change how we do things but you. I'll work on the Grounders and prepare them for your arrival. But there's no point if the Ark attempts to shoot everyone like last time," she says, trying to get her point across without commanding him to stay.

"She's right, Papa G. No matter what we do, if the Ark won't listen, then it's all for nothing. We _will_ die. Even if we have guns and bombs, the ground has enough warriors to kill every man, woman, and child we have thrice over."

Jake glares at the ground, and Clarke knows that he understands but doesn't like it. Finally, he sighs.

"Why can't anything be easy with the two of you?"

"Believe me," Raven scoffs. "We ask ourselves the same question every damn day."

"Fine. _Fine_ , I'll stay here. But you're going to take at least three more people with you."

"Dad."

"Clarke, please don't expect me to let you go without having some peace of mind. I won't be able to do anything if all I do is worry about my two girls getting lost on the ground or, god forbid, chased by an overgrown, bloodthirsty gorilla."

\--------------------

 _His two girls_ , he said. Raven doesn't remember the last time three such simple words managed to rock her to the core. She reels back a step, thoroughly shocked.

"Don't look at me like that, Raven. 'Course you're family now," Jake waves at her surprise, unknowing of the effect his words had on her.

She releases a shaky breath.

"He's right, Rae," Clarke says, moving closer to her as if to enforce Jake's words by closing the distance inch by inch.

 _God, fucking what is it with this family and trying to make me cry_ , she thinks angrily as she closes her eyes in an attempt to stop the sudden surge of tears. _Get a grip_.

She feels suddenly bashful and refuses to look at either of them. She doesn't say a word, but she trusts Clarke to know what to do. She isn't disappointed.

"Yeah, okay, dad. I'll find _two_ more people."

"Three."

"Two." The mechanic can hear the glare that Clarke uses to emphasize her point, and she would have laughed if she didn't feel so emotionally raw. _Fucking Griffins_ , she thinks without any real bite.

She feels Clarke press a hand on her lower back, seemingly an unconscious gestures, as if offering comfort without thinking about it. _I swear to God, what the_ fuck _is it with this family._

"Clarke, is it always this hard for you to just say yes?"

That pulls a laugh from her and she finally lifts her head to rejoin the living. She is met with matching looks of gentleness from both Griffins. _Jesus, apparently the puppy dog eyes run in the family._

"Give it up, Papa G," she ignores how her voice stumbles at his nickname, "that's the best you're going to get from her. Your daughter is bossy as hell."

"Hey!"

"Oh, Raven, you have no idea. I'll show you videos of bossy baby Clarke later."

" _Dad_ ," Clarke whines, and Raven lets herself sink into the comfort of their banter.

They were _family_. Blood or not, they were family.

 _Fucking saps_ , she thinks fondly.

The easy familiarity between father and daughter sucks her in, and the rest of the day leaves her glowing with contentment. Dinner is filled with smiles and laughter, and she is surprised to see how Abby was before Jake left them. She suddenly understands why Clarke is capable of loving someone so absolutely when she sees the way Jake looks at Abby and vice versa. Clarke and Abby butt heads over simple things but the arguments are always laced with humor -- something she'd never seen before on the ground.

Abby asks for her to stay, and she doesn't have the energy nor the willingness to deny her. Not when Jake and Clarke are looking at her like "no" would kill them.

"How do they do that?" She grumbles later when she helps Abby do the dishes. The woman beside her chuckles.

"The pitiful looks when they want something, you mean?"

"Yeah, it's like if they don't get what they want, they might actually start crying."

Abby snorts and shakes her head.

"I have no idea, but they've gotten away with a lot of things with that look."

"They're dangerous, Mama G," she says, amused and unthinking of the nickname that slipped past her lips. When she realizes what she said, she freezes. After all, not everyone takes kindly to being a mother to another kid.

"You can unfreeze now, Raven," Abby tells her gently. The woman doesn't look at her, and the mechanic is grateful. "When you walked into this house with the two of them, I knew that they'd adopted you. Jake's told me what happened to your parents."

Abby places the dish she was wiping down before turning to her.

"You've got a family here," the doctor says. "Besides, I've always wanted another daughter."

Raven gives her her best puppy dog eyes.

"Oh no, no, no, no, don't you start learning that trick. You're supposed to help me fend them off!"

Later, when they've played at least three different board games (she won all of them and Clarke attempts to burn a hole through her head) and a violent round of charades (Clarke won that but Raven maintains that she cheated which led to roughhousing), the mechanic finds herself lying next to Clarke.

The day has been an emotional rollercoaster and she's exhausted, but she doesn't want to sleep just yet. If she's being honest with herself, she doesn't want to sleep because she's scared that it's all just a dream and she'll wake up to the dull ceiling of her room, lonely beyond belief.

She feels Clarke shift next to her as she lays on her back, mirroring her own position.

"I'm happy you're here, Rae," the blonde breathes, always knowing exactly what to say.

"Shut up, and go to sleep."

She pauses.

" _Thank you_ , you giant sap."

She's really not fooling anyone.

\--------------------

They spend the following days scouring through all the video footage. Diana had been careful to avoid cameras unless she's talking to her people about insignificant topics. So far, they only knew two things: she's staging a coup and she's involved in the Unity Day bombing. They've watched _hours_ of mind-numbing video footage, and still, they had no definitive proof. It wasn't exactly a surprise when one of them breaks -- it's only shocking because it was Jake considering he's far more patient than both girls.

"This isn't working," he grumbles two minutes into their daily routine of meeting up after lunch so that Clarke can spend the morning in the clinic. "We have hundreds of hours more to go and I don't think we're gonna find any proof here."

"I agree. We've been here for days, even the thought of coming back to my own office to uselessly watch this shit is giving me anxiety," Raven responds in kind

Clarke only sighs, not knowing what else to do. She's hoping to get to Earth in a week, and at this point, there might be no hope for that. She pinches the bridge of her nose, beyond done with the situation. 

They could threaten Diana's company into telling them the truth, but she's got a feeling that aside from the bitch herself, Shumway, and that man from the armory, everyone else is being forced to do the dirty work.

"Raven, can you pull up Brian's file?"

"Yeah, give me a second."

Clarke studies the information that Raven managed to dig up on the guard. She sees that his daughter's been in the clinic for half a year. Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline when she realizes that the 13-year-old kid is in the psych ward. As far as she can tell, she was admitted after attempting to kill herself, which landed her in the ICU for the first two months. She knew that standard procedures would require close monitoring of her biological condition and then facilitate mental recovery with the right medication and a proper therapist. But therapy on the Ark costs a hell of a lot more than getting a bone fixed because the previous generation believed it to be a luxury instead of a need -- as if people choose to suffer at the hands of a debilitating mental illness. Briefly, Clarke feels a flash of anger at the sheer stupidity and inhumane disregard for an injury just because it cannot be seen. She knew her mother would wholly agree with her current indignation. After all, this kid is hurting and her father is being baited into violence for the sake of getting his daughter basic and proper healthcare.

"I have an idea," she says as calmly as she can.

"What are you thinking?" Her father warily asks.

"I'm going to talk to Brian," she ignores their half-formed protests. "I'm well aware of the risks. But think about it. We already know that Brian has been taking more shifts than necessary, which makes him more vulnerable than the others. We also know that he values his daughter more than anything, so it's very likely that Diana's using his love for her to force him into cooperating. _But_ we know that his record is squeaky clean, has no tendency for violence, and by all accounts, a good man. I think we can persuade him to come to our side."

"And just how do you plan on doing that?" Her father asks.

"Let me think about that. But I'm gonna need you to be there when I talk to him, dad."

\--------------------

The next day, Jake finds himself in the clinic under the pretense of missing Clarke and Abby and wanting to spend time with them in their turf. His wife playfully told him to not get in the way and he had smiled, sheepish. They left Raven to go through the videos much to her protests but it would have been suspicious if they were all there. Brian isn't expected to arrive until after lunch like he always did before his shift. That means he's got time to actually observe Abby and Clarke's working dynamic. He was blown away.

He knew that his wife and daughter both had a knack for healing. He'd been prepared to be amazed, but actually witnessing it? That's an entirely different story. Watching both women interact with their patients, calling them by their first names, and doing their best to help them believe that they will heal made him want to hug them. Abby can compartmentalize whenever needed. When a patient with a broken leg came in, his wife was quick to shift from loving caregiver to lead doctor. The team around her moved when she moved, they did what she asked before she can even tell them, and they knew exactly what was expected of them. He might have fallen a little more in love with his wife at this moment.

Meanwhile, Clarke didn't wait for instructions. She took one look at the bone protruding out of the man's skin (he tries his very best not to be squeamish) and she was already grabbing the necessary tools. While Abby handles the team, Clarke talks to the patient. He hears her tell the man to look at her instead of staring at his leg and when he complies in his panicked state, Clarke takes his hand, smiles at him, and tells him to trust them. The man nods, and his daughter begins talking to him about mundane things, even managing to pull a pained smile at a particularly funny story.

The routine continues until Abby catches a break sometime during lunch. Clarke was busy checking up on the kids and giving them their vaccines. He watches his daughter bend down for each and every child and patiently explain to them what's in the shot. She makes it sound cool and even his grown ass wants to get a shot if only to "get a super cool and super strong immune system." He doubted the kids actually understood what an immune system is, but it seems that anything that made them believe they can become superheroes was enough to stop the crying.

"Amazing, isn't she?" Abby says as she stops next to him, hand already reaching for the lunch he brought them an hour ago.

"You're pretty damn amazing yourself, love," he replies as he pulls her tight to his side. Abby scoffs and rolls her eyes but the blush dusting her cheeks makes him chuckle.

"The patients love her, especially the children. We don't get too many kids here, but they come back just to see her. The seniors also ask for her though that may be because she lets them talk her ear off."

"She definitely gets that from you."

"Who else would she get it from? Certainly not you," Abby teases, laughing at his indignation.

"At least I have Raven now," he says, before realizing that he never actually talked to his wife about adopting the mechanic.

Abby rolls her eyes at his suddenly sheepish countenance, but there's a smile on her face that promises Jake that it's okay.

"I know. Don't worry, you're not sleeping on the couch tonight. But before you faux adopt an 18-year-old next time, please talk to me, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're lucky I love you."

"I am."

They smile softly at each other and he wonders how he could have sacrificed this contentment in the original timeline. He knows he's impulsive when he believes that he's right but _man_ , did Clarke have a right to chew him out the first time she told him about time travel.

Before he can mull further, the moment is broken when he catches his daughter's eye. She looks apologetic, well-aware that her parents were being sappy. But she glances to the side, and he follows the direction. He sees Brian walk into the clinic and promptly starts to fill up the visitation forms. Clarke gives him a nod.

"Hang on for a bit, Abs, I see Brian," he tells his wife.

"Go ahead, I have surgery scheduled anyway," she says, picking up their lunch and reaching up to kiss his cheek. "You'd think that with the technology we have, we'd be able to do something about the bursting appendix situation, but _no_ ," she mumbles mournfully as she makes her way to Jackson.

He moves toward Brian who looks up upon noticing his approach. The guard gives him a small smile, obviously exhausted.

"Hey, Mr. Griffin. How's it going?"

"Hello, Brian. Long time, no see. Everything's good. You're here for your daughter?"

Brian nods in response, expression grave and unbearably sad.

"Hey, it'll be okay. You want me to go with you? Have some company from this old man?" It's a gamble he knows, but he doesn't want to force him lest they risk exposing themselves. "I'll rope my daughter to check on yours, Abby's busy anyway."

"Okay, thanks, Mr. Griffin."

He waves Clarke to them. She smiles sympathetically at Brian, no trace of pity in her eyes.

"Hello again, sir," she greets. "Shall we?"

She leads them to the psych ward and Jake has to fight a flinch at the number of patients there. Some were chained to the bed and others were completely isolated. When they finally reach the right room, he is surprised to find that they had to stop behind a thick piece of glass, and he wonders how this level of isolation could possibly help Brian's daughter. Clarke shows the nurse in front of the door her I.D. and he nods and lets her pass. He's about to stop them from going in (Brian hasn't moved an inch since they got to her ward), but Clarke's suddenly there, hands up and imploring.

"Just this once, G. Please?"

"You know the rules, Clarke. Patients in isolation are to be kept _in isolation_."

Jake sees his daughter's hands tremble and a flash of anger straightens her spine.

"I'm not asking you for the impossible, G. I just want Megan to see her father. It's been a long six months. What would you do if your son's the one in there? Please understand. Literally just this once, please," she says, and Jake could guess that she was unleashing the full blast of her puppy dog eyes if Gerard's palpable hesitation is anything to go by.

"Clarke, it's okay, I'm happy to see her from here," Brian whispers, and Jake's heart breaks anew.

The blonde says nothing but continues to stare at Gerard, who begins to fidget.

"Abby will kill me."

"Let me handle her anger, G. I'll tell her I blackmailed you," Jake promises.

Gerard hesitates then sighs.

" _Fine._ You've got 30 minutes."

He moves aside to let them pass and closes the door behind them. Clarke doesn't waste any time. She takes Megan's chart and gives it a once over before going through the motions of the checkup. Brian's daughter wakes up in the middle of it.

"Hey, how are you feeling today?" Clarke asks gently. Megan doesn't offer a response. "Look who I brought."

She indicates the man beside him, who is unnaturally still. The only indication that his entire focus is on Megan is the hitching breaths the stutter out of his chest.

"Hi, Dad," Megan whispers, low and rough. The sound of her voice, no matter how quiet, propels Brian forward, eyes flooding with unshed tears.

"Hi, baby," he whispers back. He takes her hand gently, suppressing the hurt Jake knows he feels when Megan flinches.

Clarke and Jake stay quiet throughout their whispered conversations, content to fade into the background and let Brian and Megan soak up some comfort from each other's presence. When time is finally up and they hear Gerard knock on the door, Brian stands and presses a hand to his daughter's cheek, who grabs hold of it.

"I'll see you soon, okay?"

Megan nods, and just like that, they are ushered out.

"You got some time to talk, Brian?"

The man obviously struggles to get himself together but nods nonetheless. Clarke leads them into an empty office.

"Thank you, you guys. You have no idea how much it meant to me to finally connect with my daughter," Brian says, voice laden with gratitude.

"No problem. We'll do our best to help your family out."

The guard shakes his head, still feeling raw and dazed.

"It's alright, she'll get out soon enough," he says, mostly to himself.

He shares a look with Clarke. 

"What do you mean?" He asks. Brian is startled. He jolts up to his feet.

"Nothing, nothing. I should get to my shift."

Jake sighs.

"Sit down, Brian. We're not here to threaten you or your daughter. We're here for the truth."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he denies.

"We know that Diana Sydney's been talking to you and that somehow your daughter is connected. We don't know what she's planning or what she's using against you. We're not gonna do the same thing she did. So, please, sit down," Jake implores.

The guard pales and his jaw goes slack in shock.

"As-as I said before, M-Mr. Griffin, I h-have no idea what y-you're talking about," Brian insists unconvincingly.

"That's a lie and you know that I know it. For the sake of your daughter, please, hear us out. This isn't a threat. We won't hurt you or your daughter. We just want to talk. _Please_."

The air around them is tense and Jake could see Brian eyeing the door.

"If you still want to leave without hearing about what we have to say and how we can help you, we won't stop you. But if you think for one moment that there could be a way out of your situation, a better way, then give us 10 minutes of your time."

For a minute, no one moves. They can hear the guard's frantic breathing and if they listened close enough, his equally frantic heartbeat. And then, he exhales, the fight seeping out of him until he finds himself sat down. 

"Thank you," Jake says even as Brian gives him a weak glare. "I won't waste your time. So we'll get right down to business. What does Diana have on you, and what does she plan on doing?"

"And what makes you think I'll tell you? You may be part of the council but you should know that there's no one on this Ark who matters to me more than my daughter."

"I know, but if you can help us stop whatever she's planning, we can help you and Megan. I want to help you, Brian. But I won't know how until you tell me," he says as softly as possible.

"And if I don't? Will you attempt to kill my daughter too?"

"'Too'? Did Diana threaten Megan?"

Brian seems to realize what he's said because he claps a hand to his mouth, eyes wide. Jake sighs. They're getting nowhere.

"Look, if you don't tell us, then, no, we won't threaten or attempt to kill your daughter. We'll let you walk away and we'll go back to square one, trying to find out what the hell Diana's planning to do. We won't report your involvement because one, we have no proof, and two, I would never do that to you. I know what it's like to have a daughter you love -- I have two now. And I will literally do anything for them. So, I will not fault you for not telling the truth even though I wish you would. Know this Brian, whether or not you tell us, we'll get you the resources that Megan needs. No ifs or buts about it," he promises.

"Why-why would you do that for us?" Brian asks, genuinely bewildered. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because, my friend, the world already has too much horror in it. But what I saw in the psych ward, what your daughter is going through? I can do something to remove that horror. And you don't have to trust me. Trust the father that I am. "

The guard looks down, unable to face the honesty that he gave him. He gives a low, forlorn chuckle and puts his head in his hands, fingers gripping his graying hair.

"She's building bombs," he starts, voice monotonous. "They plan to blow up the Council Room on Unity Day and my job is to help place the bombs either by doing it myself or letting the others place theirs."

"How many bombs?" Clarke asks, speaking for the first time. Brian looks up at her, bewildered.

"I don't know, I'm sorry. I only know that there are a few in the Council Room already. But where I have no idea. I can only tell you about the two that I placed. They're strapped under the round table. The bombs can be set to detonate remotely."

"Where did they get the supplies?" Clarke asks again.

“I… don’t know,” he sighs. “That’s all I can tell you. They gave me two options: comply with their demands and get Megan proper care or deny them and get her killed. I didn’t want to do it, but… Maybe I should have just refused them. At least, if they kill us, we’d get out of this hellhole.”

Tears begin to fall from his eyes, and Jake feels an echo of his pain.

_“No.”_

The vehemence in Clarke’s voice makes them both jump and look at her. She moves from the wall she was leaning on and comes to a stop in front of Brian.

“No. Your death and hers would have done nothing but contribute to the violence and hopelessness. It would have robbed you of the opportunity to know what it feels like when breathing doesn’t cause pain.”

“And what would a girl born in privilege like you know?” The guard snaps.

Jake resists the urge to come to his daughter’s defense, acknowledging that she can fight her own battles. He watches her look him dead in the eye.

“First,” she whispers, gently tapping Brian’s temple, “depression comes in the form of nightmares, vivid and in full color. It’s the kind of dreams that you don’t forget in the morning. You tell yourself it’s okay and that you can shove it under the rug and go through your day. And then, the nightmares keep coming until you find ways to keep yourself from falling asleep. You lose your appetite, focused as you are on preventing the nightmares from eating away at your reality. You stop seeing the good in everything, focused as you are on the things that cause you pain.”

She points at his chest next.

“And then, you realize that something inside you hurts. You’d never noticed before because you were so busy trying to convince yourself and others that you’re alright, that it’ll pass, that all wounds heal. You panic when you inevitably realize that it doesn’t pass, not at all, not a single bit. The wounds fester and every day brings you another kind of pain. It blinds you. It makes you hurt the people around you, hoping to get them to understand what it is you’re feeling and that they’ll tell you what it is so you’d know. You realize that no matter what you do, no matter how you cry, no matter how much you scream, they will continue on with their lives. You begin to feel so alone.

“That feeling of being alone? It eats away at you. You end up trying to give everything you have just to feel a little less pain, a little less sadness, a little less anger. You give, and you give, and you give until there’s nothing left. This is where the worst happens. You feel nothing. And that’s the worst because at least the pain tells you that you’re alive, that something in you must have broken. But numbness? It’s terrifying. So terrifying in fact that you become a master of faking smiles and laughter, hoping against hope that it’ll make you feel something, _anything_.

“In the end, the nothingness drives you to desperation. You start to hurt others so that they can hurt you back, so that they can punish whatever it is you’re feeling guilty about, so that they can see that, more than anything, you need help. When that doesn’t work, you start hurting _yourself_. It’s about the only thing that makes you feel _something_. But there’s only so much you can do. And you start thinking that hell has got to be better than a life like this. That’s when you try to kill yourself. Some succeed, some don’t. But know this: it takes a lot of nothing to get a person to this point.”

Brian has long since begun to cry, and even Jake is not immune to his daughter’s description of what she has gone through. She wipes the guard’s tears with a hand and a sad smile on her face.

“That’s what depression feels like for me,” she says. “But you know what finally got me out? The people around me -- the same people I hurt. When there’s so much love staring at you in the face, there’s only so many times you can tell yourself that you don’t deserve it until you start believing that maybe, _just maybe_ , there’s something in you that they see, something you missed, something you can save. And it takes a lot of courage and a lot more pain to dig through everything that’s dead in you and find that tiny part you can save. But they held me up, pushed me to live, and gave me a reason to want to stay in this life.

“Brian, if you give up? It’ll do Megan no good. You saw how she looked at you today. I know it’s hard, but we’ll help you both. When we bring Sydney and Shumway down, we’ll talk to Jaha, and I _swear_ to you, we’ll get the care Megan, and everyone else in that godforsaken psych ward needs. The only thing I ask from you is to find that tiny part of you that still believes that it’ll get better. After all, hope is the only thing you need to get you through another day. That and a little courage.”

Clarke bends down to hug the exhausted man.

“Thank you for what you’ve told us,” she says, before letting him go and squeezing his shoulder. “May we meet again.”

They watch her leave, dumbfounded and amazed. 

“What has she lost?” The guard asks.

“I think the better question would be what has she gained? If I spend time thinking about what she’s lost, I don’t think the list will end. But I like to think that with everything that she’s been through, it’s time for her to start gaining something,” Jake says. “I better go and follow her. The sooner we deal with this, the sooner we can get you what you need. Thank you, Brian. You’re a good man. Hang in there.”

Just as he was about to breeze out of the door, the guard called him.

“Jake,” he says, “you’ve got a good kid. Don’t let her go.”

The engineer gives him a smile.

“I do, and I won’t.”

\--------------------

Brian’s reveal seemed to be just the thing they needed to get the ball rolling. The hours following the event left Clarke breathless. Raven had managed to figure out how to target their search of relevant footage once she was told where to focus. Steadily, the folder that holds all of their proof began to fill up with videos of Sydney or Shumway talking to Brian. The next day, the gods above smiled upon them when they accidentally stumbled on proof that Shumway did enter Megan’s room and the resulting altercation between him and Brian. Raven also managed to hack into the clinic’s visitation records, which didn’t have Shumway’s name on it -- a direct violation of the Ark’s medical laws.

They decided not to remove the bombs. If what Brian said is true, then showing Jaha the bombs would be more convincing than them presenting it to him. All that was left to do is to prove that Diana is the mastermind behind the intended murder of the Chancellor and the council members. They were at a loss on how to do that, and it was grating on everyone’s nerves. That is until Wells, of all people, gave them exactly what they needed.

It happened while Clarke was on her way to Raven’s office from the clinic. She’d been steadfastly avoiding her childhood friend, never quite ready to face another ghost. She wasn’t so lucky this time around.

“Hi, Clarke,” he says as soon as she rounds the corner a few paces away from the clinic.

She stops, frozen like a deer caught in headlights. She is in no way prepared for the oncoming confrontation that she knew Wells would want if the frown on his face was any indication. But she pinches herself, unsure if she’s stuck in another nightmare or if he’s really right in front of her. The sting that results from the action confirms that yes, this is real.

“Hi, Wells,” she breathes, trying to reign in the urge to stare at his body in search of knife wounds that weren’t there. She settles on focusing on his eyes, relishing the emotions that flash in them, comforting herself with the life it shines with.

She knows he said something but It takes a while for her to process his question, still torn between launching herself to claim a much-needed hug or running away from the memories that crash into her like unrelenting waves. She shudders, knowing exactly who killed him and what happened immediately after.

"Clarke?"

She jolts, racking her brain for the question she didn’t hear. Thankfully, the goddess in her was listening.

 _He’s asking why you’re avoiding him_ , Wanheda says, and Clarke sends her her gratitude.

“Would you… believe that I wasn’t avoiding you?” Wells rolls his eyes.

“Clarke, we’ve been friends since we were both in diapers, you can lie better than that. So, what’s really going on?”

“I-I can’t tell you, Wells,” she says, watching as he nods at her answer as if it was no surprise.

“It wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the previous Chancellor, right?”

Clarke gaps at him. And then, she splutters.

“ _What_ -How did you even get _there_?” Wells opens his mouth to answer. “You know what, no, come with me. Let’s go.”

She drags him all the way to the office, ignoring his grunts and protests. She bursts through the door then spins around to lock the door, oblivious to the heart attack that she gave Jake and Raven with her whirlwind of an entrance. She turns back to them and promptly glares at Wells, the shock of his revelation taking precedence over the thousands of emotions she couldn’t possibly name, rising in the wake of seeing him alive and breathing and _here_. She’ll deal with that later. Much, _much_ later.

“Clarke, what’s going on? Also, have you heard of the concept of knocking? It’s really interesting, and it’s got a lot of benefits like it prevents killing someone, _me_ , with a heart attack. You might want to look it up,” Raven snarks.

The blonde ignores everything but the first question.

"Well, I don't know, Raven. Why don't we ask Wells here _how he knew that there's something going on and that it involves Diana Sydney_?"

Twin "what!" follows her words before everybody looks at the man in question, who shrinks back into himself at the attention he's receiving. He holds his hands up.

"I'm not here to report you to dad if that's what you guys are worried about," he squeaks.

"Then, why?"

"Aside from trying to figure out why you're avoiding me? I was looking for Mr. Griffin, actually. I may have heard something I probably shouldn't have, and I didn't know if my dad was gonna believe me," he says.

"What is it that you heard, Wells?" Jake asks.

"I was following Shumway because he beat up one of my classmates. I wanted to find out why so I was waiting for him to be alone. Just as I was about to approach him in some deserted hallway, Diana Sydeny was there. They were talking about getting ready for Unity Day so I didn't think much of it, but then she went on to ask if the "bombs" were ready," he says. "They talked for a couple of minutes but… well, it's easier to show you."

He reaches into his pocket and, much to Clarke's surprise, pulls out a recorder. She can't help the surprise that's probably written on her face. He rolls his eyes.

"Don't look so surprised, Clarke. After years of trying to get Pike on ice, this thing pretty much lives in my pocket."

She sneaks a glance at Raven and Jake, the former looking impressed and the latter staring hard at the recorder.

"So, that's where it went," her dad says. "We'll talk about the consequences of stealing from me later, young lady."

She gives him a sheepish smile.

"Anyway, here," Wells says before pressing the play button.

 _"--about the others, but my batch is already in place, ma'am. I'm scheduled to meet the two guards later to ask how it's going,"_ Shumway's annoying voice filters through the tiny speakers.

_"Good, let me know as soon as you get an update. Tomorrow, we'll bribe the Exodus security detail. I expect you to get Callie Cartwig out of the way, understood?"_

_"Yes, ma'am, that won't be a problem. We got word that she's into sneaking extra rations for the orphans. All we need is proof, and I've got the man in charge of the cams for the night shift in my hands. I beat up his kid yesterday."_

_"Did you leave marks?"_ Shumway hesitates, caught off guard by her question.

_"No, ma'am."_

"He's lying, the kid's neck is littered with bruises," Wells hisses.

_"Alright. Remember, we don't want anyone asking questions if we want our dear Chancellor and his council dead by Unity Day."_

_"Yes, ma'am."_

The recorder beeps.

"I hightailed it out of there," he says.

For a couple of minutes, no one moves and Wells fidgets uncomfortably. This is exactly what they needed, and Clarke can't quite believe that it could be this easy. She suspects the other two are thinking along the same lines, and she tries to remind herself of the handful of times that the universe smiled upon them and made their lives easier.

"Holy shit," Raven says, dumbfounded.

Her words trigger a flurry of activity as Clarke jumps and hugs Wells while her father and Raven hustle to take the recording and slip it into the thick envelope with everything else they found to incriminate Sydney and Shumway. 

"Clarke, Clarke, what's going on?" Wells asks, bewildered as he pulls away from her.

"We've been trying to get proof for _weeks_. You're the best, Wells," she says, watching as he blushes. She makes a mental note to confront his feelings when there’s time for such a conversation. "I know you have a lot of questions right now, but we don't have time to answer them. I'll give you a quick rundown, and I'm begging you to save your questions later, alright?"

He nods, still a bit dazed from everything that's happened.

"Diana and Commander Shumway are going to blow up the Council Room to kill your dad, and we've been compiling proof. They've blackmailed and threatened people to rope them into doing it. Your recording gave us what we needed to present the proof to the Chancellor, so we're going to go and do that now," she says in one breath. 

"Now?" Her father yelps.

"Yes, now. We're already short on time because Raven needs to prepare the pods."

Her mechanic nods, and Clarke is grateful for her wordless support. Wells looks even more confused but thankfully, he seems to be biting his tongue to stop himself from asking questions.

"Dad, call Jaha. It's time to bargain."

\--------------------

The Chancellor had been enjoying an unusually peaceful lunch when his best friend call for him. He'd been bemused, but considering how Jake never asked for his attention unless necessary, he rushed to find out what it was about. Upon entering his office, Jaha knew that the confusion was plain on his face. Jake, Clarke, and Wells were there along with a mechanic who introduced herself as Raven Reyes. Bypassing the usual small talk, Jake launched into a tall tale about bombs and Sydney. Understandably, he'd been bemused and slightly worried about his friend's sanity. After all, Diana did support his campaign as a Chancellor. So, he asked for proof.

Clarke dropped a rather hefty envelope on his lap, and as he sifted through it, Jaha wondered how they were even able to gather evidence. He meant to ask them, but before he could, Jake invited him to move the conversation to the Council Room.

When the girl, Raven, pulled out an inactive bomb strapped under the table, the Chancellor stared then dropped to the nearest chair. Wells explained his involvement, and Jake supported his story with the help of the contents of the envelope he was clutching. Once everyone was done speaking, Jaha pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling a massive headache.

"How did you even know to start looking into Diana?" He croaks after a few seconds of composing himself. He lifted his head to stare at them and noticed how they turned to look at Clarke, who stayed in the background up to this point. She stepped forward, Raven immediately falling in step to her right.

"I was the one who brought it to dad's attention," she says so confidently that Jaha irrationally finds himself intimidated by this teenager. "I cannot tell you how or why, but I can swear that I only have the best intentions for the Ark."

"And why can't you tell me?" He says, holding back a scoff. "Withholding crucial information is a crime, Clarke."

"I'm aware. And you have two choices: you can either throw me into prison or you find out what I want."

Something about her tone both annoys and intimidates him, and he wonders why Jake hasn't said anything since the blonde teenager took the stage.

"What's stopping me from throwing you into prison?"

"What's motivating Sydney and Shumway to kill you? Why does the lower class refuse to follow you? Why does your own son refuse to talk to you about anything that matters?" Clarke shoots back. "Maybe you should answer those questions first before threatening to imprison me or float me."

Jaha sighs. He's aware of the fact that his hold on his current position is weak. If Jake stages a coup, the Ark would follow him in a heartbeat. It was part of the reason why he kept him so close to his side. He admits to himself that Clarke made a valid point.

"What is it that you want then?"

"Let's put it this way: what is it that we both want? The reveal of Sydney and Shumway's intentions, my knowledge of it, and my father's following, whether he recognizes it or not, is a threat not just to you and your position but more importantly, to the Ark's stability," she pauses as he nods along, internally wondering when the Ark started teaching children how to play political games. "So, here's my proposal: send me to Earth."

He freezes. Vaguely, he sees Jake clamp a hand on Wells as soon as he opened his mouth to protest.

"We've proven to you that the Ark won't have enough oxygen to support life in a year's time. Sooner or later, you'll have to send someone to verify if Earth is survivable. By sending Raven and I to Earth, you'd be getting rid of someone who can start a rebellion against you and finding out if there's a place other than the Ark that we can call home."

"Gods, Clarke," he says. "Do you know what you're asking me to do? Jake, don't you have anything to say?"

"I support her proposition, Thelonious," Jake says, though he can see how it pains his friend to say so. "My condition was to bring with her two others to scout Earth."

"You're okay with this?"

"I'm not, but Clarke has told me everything she knows, and I ask you to trust me and, by extension, her. You know that I would never willingly and consciously bring harm to anyone, much less to my family. You know that my support for her demands is a decision I didn't make lightly," Jake presses.

Jaha averts his eyes in the wake of his friend's resolve and instead, chooses to scrutinize Clarke. Throughout this conversation, she remained firm in her stance and rational in her arguments. She didn't seem to be the same teenager that she was only a month ago.

"What do you hope to achieve, Clarke?"

"First, as I said, I want to see if Earth is survivable," she answers without hesitation. "Second, I want to know if there are any who have been living on ground," he rushes to reject her idea but she forges on, seeming to have seen his disbelief from a mile away. "We don't have the technology to confirm if anyone survived the bombs, Chancellor. Seeing as we escaped through a floating spaceship, I'd say that even if the chances are slim, there remains a possibility that Earth is occupied. And if there are people on the ground, then I want to prepare them for your homecoming. A giant ball of fire won't be seen as anything other than a threat, and I'd rather we avoid a massacre."

"Say I believe that there are people on the ground. Say I approve of your suicide mission. How will you prepare an entire imaginary civilization of our arrival? What can a sheltered teenager like you do? Wouldn't it be better to send your parents or even someone on the Council?"

For the first time, Raven bristles and the Latina's features contort into a frown even as Clarke doesn't even flinch. The tension in the room skyrockets, and the blonde walks toward him, predatory and menacing. He gulps as she comes to a stop two feet away from him.

"With all due respect, Chancellor, do _not_ underestimate what I can do," she says calmly. "I know that you do not know who I or _what_ I am, and frankly, you don't need to know. All you need to know is that I act in the best interests of the Ark. If you require anything more than my proposition, my father's support, and the evidence we presented, then you're a failure as a leader."

She pauses as Raven makes her way just a few steps behind her, posture tense and waiting.

"All the facts are staring at you in the face, Chancellor. What will you do?"

\--------------------

Wells spends the rest of the week breathless. He'd insisted to go with Clarke and Raven to Earth. His father had made half-hearted protests, and he wonders if the Chancellor will ever care for him the same way he used to when his mother was still alive. Clarke presented more heated arguments against his decision.

 _"You could die, Wells! And it would be_ my _fault," Clarke had hissed, fists clenched and back ramrod straight. "Why are you so persistent?"_

_"You should know why by now, Clarke," he'd shot back. He watched her sigh before looking at him straight in the eye._

_"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but I don’t – I'm not in love with you."_

_He softened in the wake of her obvious regret and in spite of the cracking in his chest. He'd known that she wouldn't return his feelings for the longest time, but he also knew that she'd done her best to do just that. The thought that she tried for him soothes his suddenly weary bones/'._

_He could let go now._

_So, he stepped towards her, taking her trembling hand before pulling her into a hug. The tension in her body faded, and she sagged against his shoulder._

_"I know. That's okay; I've known for a long time. I'm still in love with you but I'm working hard to let that go. I'm asking to go down to Earth with you because you're my friend, Clarke. Dad hasn't cared about me since mom died. You're the only family I have left._ Please _, let me go with you."_

Clarke didn't offer any protests after that. She had simply nodded and that was that. When they returned to where Jake and Raven were waiting, the mechanic took one look at him before clapping a hand on his shoulder then continuing on her explanation like nothing happened. Wells wondered who she was to Clarke. The blonde had promised to explain everything to him when they get to the ground, but that didn't stop him from being a little jealous of Raven.

Unfortunately or fortunately, he didn't have time to think about it. While Jake was busy working with Abby to fix the problems of the healthcare system and while his father was constantly stuck in the treason trial against Sydney and Shumway, he was dragged along by Clarke and Raven.

The plan was to take one of the Exodus ships and stock with rations for a week (the best that the Ark could afford to give them) and medical supplies. Jake had haggled to allow their group to be equipped with handguns and ammo and the approval didn't come easy. The only snag they hit was who to take as the fourth member of their group, and that's what they were currently discussing. Clarke had shot down the idea of taking an Ark guard, saying she didn't trust the law enforcement after the Sydney debacle. Raven had started throwing what seemed to him as random names until they finally stopped on one.

"He's in jail, right?" Clarke asks, massaging her temples and wearing the same exasperated look that Raven is sporting.

"Who? Murphy? At this point, yes. He's been destructive since his mom died telling him that he killed his father," Raven says, ignoring the look of shock that passes through Clarke's face. "He'd come if you gave him a reason to. He doesn't have anything to live for, except maybe killing the Chancellor, no offense, Wells."

He waves away her disclaimer.

"He's the best option we've got, Clarke, and you know it. He's not gonna make anything easy for us but when he trusts you – and he will – he'll follow you anywhere."

The blonde grunts, either in affirmation or protest Wells doesn't know. Jake seems amused by the entire exchange though he can see the worry on his face.

"I can get Thelonious' approval if that's what you need. Compared to everything we've asked him to do, this might be the easiest yes he'll ever give," the engineer pitches in. "And Clarke, I know you're not gonna like this, but we need to tell your mom, preferably before you and your friends hurtle down to Earth."

His best friend swallows, before groaning and dropping her head to her hands. The brunette beside her snorts.

"We're dead, Princess. We're dead before the Earth kills us."

"You're not helping, Rae."

"Do you think she'll make it slow and painless or is she a secrete sadist?"

Clarke groans some more.

"Dad, can't you tell her and I'll just answer questions?"

"I mean, that's fine but are you really going to throw your father under the bus?" Jake asks, suppressing a smile.

"Yes," the blonde deadpans.

They laugh it off, but Wells can't shake the feeling that if he had waited to confront Clarke a little longer, he would have lost the girl he once knew like the back of his hand to the strange and new her.

\--------------------

Meeting this version of Murphy is weird. Raven remembers him differently. Sure, he was rough around the edges, quick to shoot a retort, and always harsh or sarcastic. (The memory of her limp makes her rub her leg unconsciously, half-expecting to fight through the teeth-gritting pain that was as natural to her as breathing.) But now that she knows who he is underneath the tons of rocks and blocks of ice he placed between himself and others, Raven doesn't feel anything but relief. She can't explain it, but judging by the look on Clarke's face, the blonde is feeling the same thing.

"So… to what do I owe the pleasure?" Murphy drawls, slouching like he wants to be one with the chair.

Clarke had let her take the lead on the conversation while she placed herself contentedly behind her, a hand resting on her shoulder.

"Didn't think someone like us _plebeians_ would be graced by her Highness' presence, but here we are."

Raven rolls her eyes before she can stop herself, belatedly realizing that that might have been a little too familiar if the weird look he's giving her is anything to go by.

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Nope. We’re here to offer you something."

" _Oh_ great, bribery. Sorry to break your bubble, but you know," he gestures around the cell, "I'd probably be dead by the next election."

"That's not what we're here for, Murphy."

The use of his last name like she's been saying it for years gets her another weird look.

"I'll cut to the chase. Clarke and I along with the Chancellor's son plan to go to Earth in a week. We want you to come with us."

Murphy looks at her dumbfounded.

"Is this a joke?"

"No."

"Wow, I mean, I hate the Chancellor's guts, but I didn't think he'd sentence his own son to death,"  
he says, almost laughing at the thought. All at once, Raven is reminded that the Murphy before he trusted them was an asshole.

"Yeah, no, that's not what's happening here. We blackmailed the Chancellor into letting us drop down to Earth," she responds, irked. Clarke briefly squeezes her shoulder, and Raven lets out a breath. "We know a hell of a lot of things. Guess he couldn't be an idiot what with the shit we greeted him with."

"I'm guessing it's the Princess' idea, then?" Murphy shoots a look at Clarke, who immediately responds before Raven can say anything.

"Yep," she says blankly. "Crazy, right?"

It's enough to unnerve Murphy because he's suddenly trying his best to slouch while sitting up straighter in his seat. Raven takes it as an opportunity.

"We know you've got a year left into your sentence. Rotting in this hellhole or getting chucked into space is all well and good, but we thought you'd like to have a choice on how you die."

 _That_ irritates him like Raven thought it would.

"And what do you know about me?"

"A lot more than you think," Clarke mutters loud enough for Murphy to hear.

"We know you're bored as fuck sitting here waiting for death. We know you hate any and everything that represents this fucked up place. We know you've got nothing left for you here other than a death sentence for something the Ark is at fault for," Raven lists.

"And you're okay with her badmouthing your palace, Princess?"

Raven can feel the hairs at the back of her neck stand as Clarke leans just the slightest bit forward.

"Yep."

Before he can get a word (a curse or an insult) out, Raven cuts in.

"The last thing your mother said to you before she drank herself to death is that it's your fault your father died," she says, steady and unwavering.

Murphy jumps to his feet, leaving his chair to clatter to the ground. The guards standing outside the cell move as a response, but Clarke shakes her head at them, silently telling them that they can handle it.

" _How do you know about that?_ " He hisses. Raven fights to remain unnerved because, despite everything else, this is still the man who shot her and rendered her with a limp and constant pain. She'll learn to forgive him for that like she did in the previous timeline, but for now, she can't help but feel a little bit nervous.

"You told me."

"I think I'd remember if I told you something like that, bitch. You been spying on me?"

"No. As I said, you told me. Do you think I'm lying, Murphy?"

He hesitates and she hopes that he realizes that she hasn’t moved to react to his hostility. After a minute, he scoffs and falls back onto the wall, keeping a suspicious eye on both of them.

"We'll explain everything, but that's only if you agree to go to Earth with us. We can't risk anything more than we have. Besides, aren't you bored out of your fucking mind, Murphy? We're offering something more interesting: two crazy ass bitches claiming they know you and planning to drop down to Earth."

"You make a valid point, woman," he looks at Clarke, this time letting his gaze linger on her as if deciding what she is or who she is. When he turns his gaze to Raven, the familiar smirk is on his face. "Yeah, okay, why not?"

Raven nods and will forever deny the relief she feels.

"We're leaving exactly a week from now. We'll come to get you. You'll be allowed to take any belongings you want, and we'll be providing you with a weapon to protect yourself."

He's incredulous and perhaps the most honest he has been during this entire encounter.

"You'd trust me with that?"

"Why not?" Raven parrots.

"I could kill you, and if you know anything about me, then you should know I hate the upper class enough to commit mass murder."

Clarke, who was busy settling things with the guards, turns her head to him.

"You can try."

\--------------------

"Well, that was easy."

Raven snorts. "For you, maybe."

Clarke knows she'd been on the verge of a flashback as soon as they walked into Murphy's cell, and she thinks that she'll always admire how Raven can take pain and worry and fear and channel it into something a lot like courage.

"You did great, Rae," she says soothingly as they walk through the halls of the Ark, making their way back home.

"Yeah, yeah."

They fall into a comfortable silence. Clarke thinks about how they'll have to tell her mother tonight, and she wonders if she'll ever get a moment's rest. Wanheda creeps into her mind.

_Are you alright?_

_I… don't know. I kind of don't want to tell her, but at the same time, I think it would be better if I did. I'm sorry that doesn't make sense._

_You don't always have to put together, Clarke,_ Wanheda tells her gently. _But yes, I think I understand. Your mother is a woman of science, after all. Going by your memories, I think we can expect that she'll doubt. She'll fear. It could be that may also feel angry. But_ ai gona _, she is much like your father when she loves, even if you do not believe it._

But Clarke does believe it. She knows it from the stories Kane told her when her mother thought she was dead. She knows it when she continued to try and reach her despite the hatred that Clarke projected onto her. She knows it from every "I love you" and even when her mother couldn't say it.

 _I know_ , and even in her mind, she sounds so little, like her understanding is fragile but there, and it is. _You'll be here?_ A stupid question to ask, she knows, but she needs it.

 _Always_. Wanheda says without missing a beat.

She falls silent as the goddess retreats, settling back to her nest in the back of Clarke's mind. Unintentionally, she reaches over to wrap her hand around Raven's elbow. She lets it rest there, lose and soft. Raven says nothing, doesn't even turn to look at her, and Clarke is grateful.

The continue through winding halls, creeping as slowly as they could back to where the consequences of their truth can rise. They had asked for Wells to be there because Clarke doesn't think she can repeat the story until after they've made to the ground where she can draw strength from the knowledge that Lexa is only stretches of land away instead of an entire atmosphere. She wonders, as they push open the door and are greeted by the sight of a somber Jake, a worried Abby, and a nervous Wells, if telling the truth once makes it easier to do a second time.

And as her heart begins to pound even as Wanheda wraps her soul in whatever warmth she could muster, Clarke thinks, _probably not_.

\--------------------

When Anya woke up, quite literally brought back from the dead, she immediately felt like everything is different. As a warrior, she knows that death is an irrefutable part of life. When Costia died and Lexa crumbled, she reminded the Commander of this fact. When Indra lost her family to the Mountain, she had uttered the same words once more. When she was on the brink of her own death, she thought of it, over and over, and wondered why it did not feel like anything but a lie she tells herself.

Anya gets up and prepares for the day ahead out of instinct. She looks around, noting things she'd missed before she left her life on the ground. Like a child, she spent her time wondering how the birds know to sing, how nature balances itself with rain and fire. She keeps these questions to herself, vowing that it will never see the light of day.

Perhaps the most bizarre moment she has had as she navigates through life after death is meeting Lexa. She does not remember her time being dead before Raven and Clarke and _Wanheda_ uprooted everything she knew, but there is something about meeting her Commander that is so profound that Anya had to turn away to hide the inexplicable tears. Heda had asked her if she was alright – a question that Anya should be asking this girl who is walking around her territory with blank eyes and broken heart trailing her everywhere she goes.

She says yes, and tries to pass the days thinking about something else, anything else that could take her mind off the guilt she feels about leaving Lexa behind. And Anya does not think she would ever thank Clarke for choosing her, but if she did, she would tell her of how she has had to re-learn why life is fragile and precious and painful, curse her for giving it back to her along with memories of her death, and finally, thanking her for it.

Regardless, Anya sinks back into the life she had without any trouble beyond the first day. She had almost ( _almost_ ) forgotten about how she was here in the first place with memories of things that have yet to happen if it weren't for the messenger that came barging into the throne room, shortly after another _extremely productive_ meeting with the ambassadors. Anya does not treasure much, but she will forever hold the memory of _another_ Ice ambassador falling down the tower close to her heart.

"Heda!" The messenger gasps, hands on his knees, looking nothing like the warrior he was raised to be.

"Calm yourself," Anya says coolly.

The messenger takes in a couple of deep breaths before straightening his back and kneeling in front of the coveted and bloodied throne.

"Tell me," the Commander orders.

" _Sha,_ Heda. A large metal structure was seen falling from the sky. The warriors on patrol say that they witnessed it fall in the Dead Zone, too far for us to reach. Travelers from Sankru confirm it but they say nothing of survivors."

 _Clarke and Raven_ , Anya thinks, knowing that this was part of the plan Clarke had created.

"Suppose it could carry people. How many do you think this metal structure can hold?"

The messenger takes a while to consider it at the same time Anya answers in the privacy of her own mind: two _branwodas_ with problems bigger than whatever metal structure they came with.

"Near a hundred, Heda."

Lexa nods, giving her a brief glance. Not for the first time, Anya wonders just how well Clarke knew Lexa if she could predict what is about to happen. The messenger is dismissed and he bows one last time before leaving the both of them alone in the throne room.

" _Onya_ , you go."

Inexplicably, Anya feels irritated at the thought of finding Clarke. Nevertheless, she nods.

"Then, I will leave with the messenger, Heda. Will I be going alone?"

"No," the Commander says curtly. "Take a small unit with you and leave them with Indra. She has been asking for assistance with the _Maunon_ , and it will be good for the people to see my commitment to keeping this alliance strong."

" _Sha_ , Heda."

" _Ste klir, Onya_."

Anya leaves the throne room, certain that when she comes back to her place beside her Commander, everything will have changed.


	4. Mounin Hou!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rough ride involving a metal deathtrap, a two-headed lion, a pauna, and green, green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm... just gonna keep my mouth shut.

Abby had known something was wrong as soon as Clarke and Raven walked through the door. It was a mother's instinct to know, to feel, to _defend_.

Her day had started normally. Clarke had been spending more and more time with Jake, and Abby didn't have a problem with it until she felt the familiar feeling of change. She had felt it in Clarke first because her daughter was quieter, more somber in a way that Abby did not understand. She chalked it up to maturity.

But then, Jake began to pay more attention to their marriage. There had been nothing wrong with their relationship before, but Abby felt that there was a distance between them that came with being with a person for a very long time. Jake's sudden attention was jarring but welcome. Abby had felt like she was a teenager again, giggling with her arms around his waist, swaying to Old Earth music. It made her forget to pay attention to the changes that should have clued her in that something was amiss, that everything wasn't quite right.

So, when Clarke and Raven sat down in front of the audience Jake gathered, Abby was rudely and abruptly dragged out of the happy bubble she was in. Clarke looked older, she remembers noting as soon as the blonde made eye contact with her. She looked different. She looked nothing like her daughter.

When the girls told her that they were time travelers, Abby was already cataloging the process involved in admitting a family member into the psych ward. She and Wells looked at each other, and Abby knew that he was thinking the same thing. Jake knew the look in the same way that he knew her down to her darkest secrets. It came as no surprise when he clasped his hands around hers and told her gently but firmly to let the girls finish.

"I know," he had said, his voice muddled in Abby's hazy memories. "Believe me, I know."

And Jake would never lie to her, so Abby had paused in her pacing to scrutinize her husband's determined and honest face. She sat down, but she was skeptical. She didn't know how Clarke could expect her to believe a single word she said. Her daughter continued on to tell her tall tales filled with death and war and an unknown civilization of survivors while Abby steadfastly held onto logic and refused to process anything that Clarke's "truth" entailed. She had wondered when her daughter developed a vivid imagination and whether or not making the blonde give up art would fix the problem.

Hours later, as she lies curled against Jake and stomach profoundly empty, Abby realizes that she should have known better.

Because Clarke was many things, but she was never one to tell lies.

Clarke had stood just as Abby was going to ask her if she wants to visit the psych ward for a mental health checkup. She barely had time to process Jake's whisper of "brace yourself" before black bled from Clarke's body. Abby didn't register Wells' subsequent scramble to get as far away from Clarke as possible. She didn't even notice that she had stood up, arms outstretched, palms stopping right in front of Clarke's body.

Abby couldn't look away from the blue eyes that were always kind, always determined, always bright. Some part of her, the bigger part, half-believed that she was in a strange, strange dream, that there was absolutely no way that this could be happening, that Clarke _did not_ live through the life the blonde told her about only minutes before. This part is the one that continues to insist that there has to be an explanation, that there was no way that a _god_ chose her sweet, kind, stubborn daughter to be a vessel.

But then, Clarke spoke in a voice that was hers but not.

"Mom," she had whispered, frail and terrified like Abby could kill her with words, "this is me now. This is _me_. This is real. Everything I've said is true."

Abby stood silently before she ran away.

She turned on her heel and marched to the bathroom where she bent forward and promptly emptied the little that she ate that day. If this is real, if Clarke is not mentally ill, if she is to be believed, then in another reality, her husband was dead because of her and her sweet, kind, stubborn daughter has killed _hundreds_. It would mean that Clarke and Raven have survived far worse things than death, that Wells was one of the people who died on the ground, that there is nothing but hell and heartbreak waiting for them.

Try as she might, Abby could not accept such terrible things. Even when she knew it was ridiculous, that there was absolutely no way for her to deny everything that Clarke has said, Abby did her best to forget, to convince herself that it was nothing more than a dream. But then, Jake had shuffled into the bedroom, the same heartbreak written across his face.

And Jake, like Clarke, would _never_ lie to her.

So, she broke. Abby found herself apologizing for the things she couldn't believe she'd do – sentencing her husband to death, condemning Clarke for the decisions that kept their people alive, and being part of a story that told of nothing but pain. In another life, she tore her family apart. In another life, she did not have Jake's arms to keep her together when she was falling apart. In another life, she was part of a leadership structure that can and will send 100 kids to the ground, including her own daughter.

In another life, Abby thinks, she was a disease far more than she was a healer, a wife, a mother.

"Hush, love," Jake whispers as he gathers her up in his arms. "It's okay, it's alright. We've all got another chance at this. I find it hard to believe too, even now. But it's real, and it's happening, and we'll do better."

Abby tries to form a response but all her strangled throat can come up with is sob after sob after sob.

"I'm still here. Clarke's still here. You're still here."

He repeats it again and again, but to Abby, hearing his voice is like hearing him through muddled water: incomprehensible and suffocating.

She'd been told that Clarke's plan is to go back to Earth and broker peace with an entire civilization that Abby still could not believe exists. The days pass, and the day of the departure creeps closer. Abby feels like she's going through her life in a haze; she did not feel in control, she did not feel alive. She was simply there.

She has not looked at Clarke since the blonde told her story.

Abby does not know if she can look at her and not think of death and murder and torture. She does not know if she can look her own daughter in the eye and see her as nothing but that. She does not know if she can look at Clarke and promise herself that she did the best she can in both worlds, in both stories, in both timelines.

Clarke did not push her, seeming to understand that Abby is fighting to choose to believe in her daughter and her truth or remain steadfast in her belief that _no_ , she would not lead her husband to his death, _no_ , she would not crucify Clarke for the decisions she has had to make in order to survive, and _no_ , she did not uproot everything she believed in and ruined everything she loved because of her mistakes. And Abby does not know how Clarke could understand that, but she does and she tells Abby with every passing glance and feather-light touches on her shoulder.

It softens Abby's hardened heart. She cannot bear to meet Clarke's divine blue eyes, but she can watch. She sees snippets of the life they had to live through in the way she walks (quiet like she would not move if given a choice), talks (never loud or imposing but always firm and unquestioning), and breathes (pained gasps of yearning for something Abby has yet to understand).

On the day that Clarke and her friends are set to leave, Abby spends hours trying to decide whether to see her off or not. In the end, there was ever only one option.

"She's your daughter, Abby. Will you repeat the same mistakes you made in the other timeline?" Jake insists. "Come with me. _Please_."

So, she goes. Jake holds her hand like he's afraid she'll let go and turn the other way, but Abby is thinking of nothing but how, in another life, she didn't give him a chance to hold on long enough to see the Earth he adores.

"Hello, mom," the soft voice snaps her out of her spiraling thoughts.

And finally, after days of constant agony, Abby makes a choice. She lifts her head up and looks at Clarke, meeting the same blue eyes that she fell in love with, the ones she fought to see after nine months of pregnancy.

Jake's right, she thinks, this is her daughter.

"Hello, Clarke," she croaks, throat unused to her own voice.

Clarke smiles, and the sight is so soft and so understanding that Abby thinks her heart might never be whole again. She wraps her beautiful, sad daughter in her arms.

"There's a lot we need to talk about, but we'll do it later, you hear me? _Later_. Promise me that there will be a later, Clarke," Abby says, desperate and begging.

"I know, and I promise."

"Do you have to go? Can't it be someone else?" Abby can't resist asking because she has thought about how she can possibly stop this event, how she can prevent Clarke from dropping down to a world of unknowns.

"I do. It can't be anyone else, mom."

"Because you were chosen?"

"No. Because I wouldn't wish it on anyone," Clarke says.

Abby closes her eyes, knowing that there was no possible way she can talk Clarke out of it and instinctively knowing that this is what is supposed to happen. She tightens her embrace, feeling Clarke hug her back just as fiercely.

"When you get down to the ground, I'll cook a deer for dinner," Clarke promises.

"And where am I in this conversation?" Jake intercepts, loudly but watery. "I want rabbits and a giant, bloodthirsty gorilla for lunch."

Then, Abby feels his familiar arms encase both of them, pulling Raven as he goes. Abby untangles an arm from Clarke's waist wraps it around Raven's neck.

"Take care of each other, please," Abby whispers, feeling twin nods on her shoulders.

"We will, Mama G. See you on the other side," Raven pauses. "Or is that the wrong way to put it?"

It's the first time in days that Abby manages to laugh.

"I think it's too soon for that, Raven," Clarke reprimands, always considerate, always empathetic, always the way Abby needs her to be, whether she tells the blonde or not.

Abby is a doctor. Her entire life is based on facts and symptoms that she can see. But as she watches the ship carrying her daughter careen towards a brave new world, Abby, for the first time in a long time, prays.

\--------------------

"Holy fuck, we're going to die. This is it, Clarke. This is how we ruin the second chance that a literal, actual god gave us," Raven screeches, fully aware that she's screaming and cursing like she's being burned.

In a way, it's very likely to happen.

"Murphy, stay in your seat. Do not unbuckle your seatbelt!" Clarke screeches through the chaos.

Raven finds the time to take a break from the fact that her life is flashing before her eyes to look at her companions. Murphy's stuck in a constant loop of maniacal laughter that makes her kind of want to hit him upside the head because _hello_ , we're going to fucking die, please laugh later. Clarke is wild-eyed and Raven kind of wants to snort because they've both been through this shit before but _no_ , it's still not something she'd do ever again, time-traveling or not. If they die here, she's going to request to go back to point when they're already on Earth. Wells has his eyes closed tight, looking nauseous and afraid and Raven kind of wants to pat him on the shoulder because right now, he's being _so_ relatable.

"Fuck, Clarke, what if we die here?" Raven can't resist asking.

"I'll beg for a third fucking chance, that's what. Wanheda, you and I are going to have a long talk about how it feels to fall from the sky. No, you don't understand because you're not sitting here, but I am and I'm literally watching myself drop down from fucking space to the fucking ground... No offense, right now, I don't care how old you are... Come on out then and see for yourself," Clarke responds and then completely forgets to keep her conversation with the god internal.

Raven has the strangest urge to join Murphy in his maniacal laughter because suddenly Wanheda is sitting right beside her, eyes blown wide in surprise and if she's not mistaken (because she could be, because she signed up for this and she can't remember what the hell possessed her when she said yes), a little bit of fear.

The god clears her throat.

"Yes," Wanheda _squeaks_. "This is indeed unpleasant." And then, she promptly gives Clarke's body back to its owner who only rolls her eyes and eats half of her bottom lip.

Raven can't help it. She bursts into laughter.

She and Murphy continue laughing until it turns to screams the closer they get to the ground.

"Why the fuck does this thing not have a safe landing switch?! Who designed this fucking death trap?!"

"Definitely not me because I'm brilliant enough to think of that!" Raven doesn't exactly know who she's responding to because she can't register anything other than the fact that she can see the sand of the Dead Zone and that the fall is taking way longer than it should.

The crash is rough. Raven wouldn't be surprised if they left behind a crater. Murphy is still laughing and she distantly worries about his ribs. Clarke unleashes an impressive string of curses and Wells whimpers. Raven just can't with this shit anymore.

She's disoriented, on the verge of a heart attack, and she's trying really hard not to demand Wanheda's head. They're all on the ground and there are groans coming from all sides and Raven's pretty sure hers is one of them.

"Everybody alive?" Clarke asks, sounding shaky and out of breath. Raven does not move because she doesn't ever want to move.

"Fuck if I know," Murphy gasps somewhere from Raven's right. "That was the most fun I've had in years. Guess you deserve my thanks after all, blondie."

"Wells?"

Raven hears some fumbling, and she assumes that Clarke is trying to get up to see if Wells is okay. She doesn't care. Right now, she wants to be one with the floor of this death trap because being human is so hard.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Wells groans, weak and wavering.

"Raven?" And suddenly her vision is filled with blonde hair. Raven sputters. "Oh, sorry. You alive?"

She stares right into Clarke's eyes.

"Please tell Wanheda I hate her right now."

Clarke nods.

"Same."

They stumble out of the death trap, getting whatever supplies they pass by on the way to the door. Clarke doesn't waste time; she presses the door and the hiss makes Raven think of the first time she saw the blonde, the first time she walked on the ground, the first time she took a breath of pure, unfiltered air. Suddenly, she understands Clarke's urgent excitement. Raven sobers and watches as bit by bit, their group is greeted by the Dead Zone.

It's… desolate, but Raven doesn't think she's seen anything more beautiful. After all, there's a difference between seeing something for the first time and seeing it when you thought you never would.

They pile out of the dropship, and Raven is filled with something like irrational pride when she turns and sees Murphy and Wells staring at the sunrise that paints the sand in a million different colors that the Ark could never replicate. There are mountains upon mountains of sand in the distance, constantly shifting and changing in the wake of the morning breeze. And Raven can't wait to explore everything that this world has to offer – everything that they didn't get a chance to see in the first timeline. Unbidden, the thought triggers a burning in the back of her eyes but doesn't dare blink for fear that she'd wake up and everything would have been a dream.

She's pulled away from her thoughts when she feels a familiar hand land on her shoulder. Unwillingly, she turns to Clarke and finds trembling lips and a tremulous smile. Raven knows that the one she gives Clarke in return looks much the same.

"It's… cheery," Murphy comments dryly.

It makes Raven snort because of course, he'd find a way to ruin the moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Clarke turn her body towards something that Raven can't see. The mechanic supposes Polis is the destination of the direction the blonde is facing. Raw yearning flashes in blue eyes, but it passes as fast as it came. It leaves Raven breathless.

Clarke sighs before bending to rummage through the bags that somehow managed to survive their fall from the sky. Within a few seconds, she hands Raven a loaded gun and the brunette feels the familiar weight of both the weapon and the feeling of taking a life settle once more into her hand like it belonged there. She resists the urge to drop it.

"Is it really necessary, Clarke?" Wells asks as soon as the blonde hands him his gun. Raven resists the urge to roll her eyes because he _knows_ and yet…

"Yes, Wells. I wish it wasn't, but it is what it is," Clarke responds calmly, looking him straight in the eye, seeming to implore him to understand, to remember what he was told days before their departure.

Wells looks away like he has since they told him and Abby the truth. According to Clarke, they've yet to speak of it, and while it made the vessel uneasy, Raven knew that she wouldn't instigate a conversation about it until and unless Wells approaches her about it.

"You sure you wanna give me this, your highness?"

Something about the question makes Raven look up from where she'd been scrutinizing Wells' increasingly uncomfortable expression. She finds Murphy staring at the gun, turning it over and over again in his hands. Clarke is right in front of him, and it's with a jolt that Raven realizes that Clarke put herself there for a reason: protection. Sure enough, the trigger for Clarke's actions makes itself apparent.

"Because you know, what if I do this?" Murphy continues nonchalantly, raising the gun and pointing it right at Clarke's face.

"Clarke!" Wells yelps, instantly moving forward. Raven barely manages to grasp his arm and stop him in his tracks. He looks at her like she's crazy, but the brunette knows better than to intervene because Clarke saw this coming, and she has long learned that the blonde does not do anything for nothing. So, she shakes her head at Wells.

"Trust her," she whispers. It does little to wipe the panic in Wells' eyes but he lets himself be grounded by Raven and for now, that's more than enough.

"That's not how you hold a gun, Murphy," Clarke says, calm, composed, and unfazed. Raven watches Murphy quirk an eyebrow.

"Oh? Do tell, princess."

Faster than Murphy could ever hope to register, Clarke plucks the gun away from Murphy's hands like it was nothing. Raven is impressed.

"First, you check to see if it's loaded," she presses a button and lets the magazine slide out, showing that it is, in fact, filled to the brim with bullets. "And then, you put the magazine back, pull on this part, and let it snap back to place. That's when you remove the safety on the side," Clarke explains like she's teaching a lesson, doing everything she's saying as she says it.

She hands Murphy the gun, and he takes it, dumbfounded. Clarke isn't done. She wraps both his hands on the grip of the gun and helps him point it at herself. Raven barely resists the urge to let Wells do as he wishes while she smacks the blonde upside the head.

"You point it steadily, and you don't touch the trigger unless you're sure to fire."

Clarke lets him go but grasps the barrel of the gun and drags it until it's touching her forehead. Raven wants to scream.

"Here, I'll help you. This way, the knockback won't shock you," Clarke continues, grasping the barrel tighter. "Oh, don't forget, John Murphy – the last step of holding a gun properly. It's important. See, you have to be sure that you can carry my blood, _my life_ , every breath I could have taken hereafter, every future I could have lived, in your hands. So, ask yourself, Murphy, if you're ready to kill me. If you are, pull the trigger."

For a few tense seconds that Raven spends not breathing, nothing happens. The atmosphere is tense; gone is the nostalgia she felt as soon as her feet touched the sand. It is replaced by the weight of this moment, the moment when Murphy is given a heavy choice: kill a person or grow up. She's about to raise her own gun and aim it at Murphy when he laughs but keeps his fingers away from the trigger.

"You're either an idiot or you have guts. Yeah, no, I'm not gonna do it. Now, tell me how to put the safety back on," he says, letting Clarke lower the gun from her own neck.

"Flick this up," she responds like she wasn't just on the brink of death.

Raven couldn't resist the urge.

As soon as she hears the sound of the safety being placed back to where it belongs, she marches toward the blonde and gives her a hard smack on the head. The force of it throws Clarke's upper body back.

"What the _fuck_ were you thinking?" Raven screeches as Clarke stares at her incredulously. "What would you have done if he actually pulled the trigger?"

"He didn't."

"What if he _did_?" Raven insists. "You, of all people, should know that you can't just trust anyone. _You_ put a gun to your head, knowing full well that Murphy here could've pulled the trigger. Have you _fucking_ lost your _mind_?!"

"Rae…"

"No! Think about how I feel, Clarke. I've already seen your corpse one too many times. I mourned you in the original timeline. I found your goddamn body in the second. How did you expect I'd react?" Raven turns to Murphy. "And _you_ , I don't give a fuck if Clarke trusts you or not. Do something like that again and I will shoot your balls."

Murphy puts his hands up in surrender, and Raven is gratified to notice that he at least has the decency to look ashamed. "Sorry," he mutters.

She doesn't give him an answer and doesn't spare Clarke a glance. Instead, she marches to the dropship, anger painting her footsteps all the way. She hears Wells scramble after her.

"Help me get this shit out before the idiots actually end up dead," she spits, knowing full well that she may be overreacting. Before she could spiral, Wells places a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you," he whispers. "I don't know what it's like in the original timeline, but I'm glad she has you to berate her when needed."

This is the first time that Wells has said anything about the truth that he heard about only days ago. So, Raven swallows her fury and unclenches her fists. She takes a deep, steadying breath as she lets go of the clench in her stomach and heart at the thought of Clarke's corpse.

"Yeah, thanks," she tells him, giving him a smile that might still be too sharp around the edges.

They turn toward the dropship.

"Did you know me in the original timeline?" She hears Wells ask as he heaves one of the boxes out from storage.

"No. By the time I dropped to Earth, you were already… you know. Clarke didn't really talk about you a lot, but I knew you meant something to her."

Wells hums. "I don't plan on dying again."

"None of us do. But Earth kills, Jaha junior."

Raven watches him frown.

"Please don't call me that," he says. "I love my father because he's family, but right now, there's no one in the world I hate more than him."

She nods.

"Does Clarke know?" Wells doesn't have to ask what she means, not when she knows she's peering at him curiously.

"She does," he responds. "She doesn't love me that way. And that's okay. I knew she wouldn't feel the same way for a long time. At least now I know. Did she love anyone here on the ground?"

Raven briefly thinks of Finn and how she left him in the Ark with a broken heart because she couldn't look at him as anything other than family. The thought still makes her feel like she's drowning, but it would have been unfair for both of them if she had stayed for a past he doesn't remember. And then she thinks of Lexa – the only person in this world who understood Clarke and the only one the blonde will ever love. She thinks warpaint and blood and sacrifice, and she thinks of Clarke's unbearable despair and quiet longing.

"She did. My boyfriend in the original timeline cheated on me with her. In her defense though, she didn't know I exist."

Wells looks at her incredulously, and she laughs.

"Yeah, it was a mess. His name's Finn."

"Finn, as in the dude Clarke had to… kill? That Finn?"

Raven feels an echo of the pain she first felt when that happened, and she wonders how long she'll feel the grief from a moment that doesn't exist in this world.

"Mm-hmm. I was so angry with her," she says. "I said a lot of really shitty things, and she took it all."

"Sounds like Clarke," Wells breathes in shock. "Did she love anyone else?"

"She did."

He quirks an eyebrow at her lack of explanation.

"You'll have to ask her. It's not something I can talk about because it's not mine to tell. But here's what I can tell you: you don't stand a chance."

To her surprise, Wells laughs.

"Must be an amazing person then."

"Debatable," Raven quips. "But yeah, they're made for each other. It's fucking annoying."

"I'm glad she found that person for her," he says wistfully.

Raven hears the sincerity in his tone and watches both relief and sadness pass across his face. She doesn’t offer a reply, but she considers Wells. Their lives are irrevocably tied around Clarke and had he stayed alive for long enough in the original timeline, Raven thinks they might've been friends. She lets the thought pass, knowing that in this world, they have time to get to know each other if only because she knows that Clarke will fight tooth and nail to keep him alive.

\--------------------

Not that he cares but Murphy doesn't know half of what’s going on.

All he knew is that two crazy-ass chicks entered his cell and basically blackmailed him into dropping down to the ground with them. They had visited him twice after – one to give him the timeline for when they're going to Earth and the other to permanently get him out of his cell. He wouldn't admit it to them, but the Princess and her sidekick gave him something to live for the next day.

That didn't mean he liked them. Not at all. In fact, he had wanted to scare them into submission, so he pointed the gun to the blonde's face, expecting her to be afraid. In hindsight, that was a stupid plan. He didn't expect her to walk in front of her like he was being a petulant child, show him how to use the weapon, and then point it at herself. His first thought was that she was either stupid or brave. His second was _holy shit_. Because the blonde had stared unblinkingly at him and there's something about her that he couldn't place. Something dangerous, something he'd like to stay the fuck away from.

And then, her sidekick marched to her friend and gave her a hard knock on the head. Murphy had watched the blonde's expression melt from "I'm going to kill you" to "I'm so sorry" within seconds. He didn't know what to think because up on the Ark, the privileged were gods. They were never wrong. Crossing them was a death sentence – he's living proof of that. But the blonde, _Clarke_ he mentally reminds himself, had been sheepish and apologetic when he thought she would bite the brunette's head off.

Raven then said something about corpses, and Murphy doesn't know how to even start processing that. When the storm passed and the other dude in their group followed the mechanic, he shot Clarke a questioning look. She understood what he meant and that's weird because he has never met any of them.

"We'll explain. But for now, we need to help them get our stuff out and find a place to camp out for the night."

"You need to give me something to work with here, Princess. I was promised answers."

Clarke sighs and for a second, he thinks she might bite _his_ head off.

"We traveled back in time. That's how we know you," she says steadily. He scoffs because _yeah, right_. "You can believe us or not, but we've met before. You were part of the hundred kids from Prison Station. _We_ were dropped to the ground to see if it's livable. You were as much of an asshole as you are now, but you saved my life more times than I could count. Wells doesn't know you so I can't say if he'll trust you. Raven knows you but there's more to it than that. You'll have to ask her."

"And you?"

She turns to him, blue eyes firm and steely.

"I trust you. But if you hurt Raven and Wells in any way, I will gut you."

He fights down a shiver.

"Say I believe your story. Why choose me? I'm sure you had people falling over to follow you."

"Yes," she agrees. "You're the only one who has nothing to live for. And I know you don't know me, but if you'd let me, I'd like to give you a reason to keep breathing. Besides," she smiles at him, "you can be an asshole, but the world's a better place with you in it."

He doesn't really know what to say to that so he keeps his mouth shut. The last person to have ever cared about him was his father. He doesn't know what to think of their little group yet, but Murphy can admit that there may be more to Clarke and Raven than meets the eye. He snorts.

"I'll believe your story, for now, blondie. But you gotta give me the full version soon," he warns. Clarke nods.

"We will. Come on, let's help them out."

They spend the next hour divvying up the rations. He finds out that they only have enough food and water for a week but they have an entire box of bullets. _Typical_ , he thinks, because the Ark has always prioritized death more than life. Speaking of the metal deathtrap, he notices that none of them have made a move to contact the Ark. He refrains from saying anything about it, thinking that either Clarke or Raven will take up the task once they've made camp.

By the time they've ensured that they all have rations and weapons, the sun is low in the sky. Despite not seeing anything but sand for miles, Murphy can appreciate the beauty of the sunset. Clarke tells them that they have a couple of hours before dark and instructs him and Wells to go around the dropship to check if there was anything they left behind. He nods his assent. As he turns to walk away, he spots Clarke's hand settling on Raven's shoulder and hears a mumbled apology. He tunes it out because though he may be an asshole, he can give them their privacy when needed.

He and Wells sweep through the drop ship, neither saying anything. It could be awkward, but right now, Murphy's too tired to give a fuck. They have a couple of hours to cover as much distance as they could, and he's no time traveler, but he suspects it's not going to be an easy journey.

Once they've managed to complete the last sweep, they walk out in tandem. Murphy notes that Raven's body doesn't seem to be as tense as it was before and that Clarke has managed to engage the previously enraged mechanic in conversation.

"Anya said head west and that if we land where we said we would, we'd break out of the Dead Zone in no more than a week," Raven says.

"We have no choice," Clarke responds. "We've got exactly a week's worth of rations. We won't survive this place if we run out."

"We can go now," Wells interjects. "There's nothing left in the ship."

Clarke turns and, without further ado, leads them through the sandy landscape.

\--------------------

There's a thrumming in her veins that Clarke has learned to associate with Lexa. It's warm and alive and it seeps to her bones. The thought of green eyes has always been accompanied by the image of black blood. And as she and her friends bridge the gap between the dead zone and TonDC, her thoughts are more black than they are green, and Clarke doesn't know what to with that. She knows that Lexa is alive in this timeline, but the doctor in her – the logical part of her before time travels and second chances – can only think about gunshots and bullets and death. Her legs are heavy with the weight of being left behind and there's a leaden weight on her heart that probably won't abate until she sees Lexa alive and breathing.

Raven seems to have picked up on her mood and has settled on bothering the boys behind them. Murphy snarks as much as Raven does, and Wells… Wells is quiet, and he has been since the day Clarke sat them down in preparation for the truth no one expects. They need to talk, Clarke knows, but right now, she can't think about anything other than _Lexa, Lexa, Lexa, I am here and you have no memory of me_. She doesn't regret choosing Raven and Anya, but she knows that the moment Lexa looks at her like she's a stranger, like they didn't survive wars and death together, like they were never in love, her heart will break. And perhaps, that's a small price to pay in exchange for having her alive in this cruel world.

"The sun will be down in half an hour. We should make camp, Clarke," Raven says, bringing her out of her spiraling thoughts. Clarke nods.

They move in silence, too tired to muster up the energy to speak. Murphy doesn't even snark back when he's told to help Wells set up the tent. She and Raven busy themselves in preparing the fire, digging through their backpacks, and laying out the rations for the night. Clarke is careful to set the weapons where she can reach them, and she sees Raven do the same.

By the time darkness fell, the group somehow managed to complete their tasks, much to Clarke's relief. They gather around the campfire, hoping to warm themselves up against the cold night.

"Here's how we'll do this," Clarke says after a heavy swallow of her jerky. "Wells and I will take first watch; Raven and Murphy, you guys take second. We'll wake you up when it's your turn. Any objections?"

They shake their heads.

"We'll contact the Ark as soon as we break through the Dead Zone. Hopefully, we'll see anything other than sand in the next few days," she pauses. "Thank you for being here with me."

"You getting soft on us, Princess?" Murphy calls out.

Clarke rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, right," she says, laughing at Murphy's answering scoff. "Alright, go ahead. No funny business you two."

Raven looks at her like she's crazy before eyeing Murphy who puffs his chest out jokingly.

"No. Nope," Raven exclaims, popping the 'p'.

"You wound me, Reyes."

"Oh, quit it. This," she gestures between the two of them as they trudge their way to the lone tent, "is never going to happen."

"You never know."

"Over my dead body asshole."

"I mean if that's what you're into."

"What the _fuck_ , have you always been this fucked up?"

Clarke chuckles at their banter, relieved that they seem to be getting along but not at all surprised.

_You chose well, ai gona,_ Wanheda whispers in her head.

_I'm still mad at you._

_I think I am still mad at myself too._

_You think?_

_Emotions have never been a strong point for me or for any of the previous holders. It will take time for me to learn and feel them as you do._

_Is it a bad thing though? To be able to not feel?_

_That remains to be seen,_ Wanheda says wryly. _Though I do not think so. You have felt much since you woke up in this timeline, and there were times when I thought it would overwhelm you. I had thought fear would leave you frozen, that love will break you, that hope will destroy you. And yet, here you are. You have not hesitated. Instead, I do believe you have honored me, Clarke._

Unbidden, Clarke smiles at her praise.

_I'm glad_ , she says, sounding small and young even to herself.

_We will talk further later, Clarke. For now, I believe there is a conversation to be had with your friend_.

Clarke looks up just as Wells sits down beside her, clutching something familiar.

"You brought a chessboard down to Earth?"

He shrugs. "I believe you owe me a game or two, Griff."

She doesn't deny him. She reaches for the board and with practiced movements, she and Wells set up the board. Wells makes the first move and she makes the second.

"Do you remember when we got in trouble?"

Clarke's lips quirk up. "Which time?"

"The one when we were protecting that kid in Farm Station. We were eight I think. He was small for his age, so the other kids bullied him. That didn't sit right with you. One minute we were playing and chess and the next you were a whirlwind of kicks and punches."

Clarke laughs. "If I remember correctly, it didn't take long for you to catch up. I distinctly remember you kneeing the biggest kid's junk."

"I did, didn't I?" He chuckles. "And then you straddled him like the badass that you are, grabbed his ears and dragged his head back up. And you said, 'touch him again and I'll let Wells knee you where it hurts.' He went pale so fast, it would have been funny if it weren't for the fact that Pike chose that moment to come in."

"We got an earful from our parents. Mom was _so_ mad," Clarke recounts as she takes Wells' knight.

"She was. Dad was too, but Jake and my mom were standing to the side giving us secret thumbs up. It was hilarious. Believe it or not, that was the day I knew that you'd be something more than the rest of us. I didn't think it would be like this though."

She looks up at him, relieved to see a soft smile. "Wells…"

"I know. You've always been the one to take responsibility. I'm not surprised that you led us here on the ground."

"How are you really?" She asks as he takes one of her pawns.

"I don't really know. It's surreal to be down here. We've always dreamt about being here, but I don't think even your drawings could have prepared me for Earth."

"You haven't seen anything yet. Once we get out of the Dead Zone, you'll be amazed. Everything is so green, and oh my god, Wells, _the food_."

He laughs. "That good?"

"That's an understatement. The Ark's food tastes like paper. The food here is _glorious_. You will never be the same," she says, salivating at the thought of meat.

"I can't wait," Wells says before hesitating. "So… the god of death, huh? You certainly don't do things half-assed."

The levity of the conversation dissipates as fast as it came, and Clarke unknowingly braces herself. Wells recognizes it as soon as it happens courtesy of the years they spent side by side.

"Hey, no, don't do that. I believe you, Clarke. It's just going to take a while for me to process that my best friend is something… _more_."

Clarke lifts her gaze from the chessboard to his eyes.

"I'm sorry," she says, tongue heavy.

"You have nothing to apologize for Clarke." He rushes to explain at her disbelief, and Clarke couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like in the original timeline if she had someone who knew her as much as Wells did. "I know you've… killed, Griff. But I also know that you wouldn't have done so without a very good reason. I know that while you may be at peace with what you've done, you still feel guilty. Am I right?"

She nods. "I don't even think I'm at peace with it yet. I know why I did what I did, and I know that if I find myself in the same situation, I would do it again. But taking a life, _ending it_ burns away something of yourself. And Wells, I am responsible for almost a thousand deaths. Doesn't that scare you?"

He looks away, eyes focusing on the chessboard. "I'm not going to lie. Yes, it does. But not for the reasons you may think. I don't think you're a monster, Clarke. It scares me that this world can be so harsh as to demand you to kill that many people. It scares me that you were put in that situation in the first place. It scares me that it had to be you. We’re kids. We're not even 18 yet. And yet, you, of all people, had to make decisions that haunt you. So, I guess what scares me the most is that one day, I won't be as strong or as brave as you are. It scares me that you'll leave me behind because I couldn't do what needs to be done."

Clarke chooses her words carefully.

"I think… that _if_ the time comes when I won't be there to make the decision for you, you'll find a way. Saving lives isn't a choice. It's our goal and the fact that you think that makes you a better leader than your father. And _if_ you fail to make the choice, then I'll be sure to remind you that it isn't your fault. After all, you're right. We're just kids," she says.

Wells hums. "I guess, we'll see won't we?"

She thinks of Charlotte and knives. "We will," she says with conviction. "I won't let you die, Wells. Never again."

"I think… I want to learn how to fight. I don't want to be protected forever," he responds like he knows what she's thinking of. He probably does.

"We will. Just as soon as we get out of this place."

They lapse into momentary silence, each stewing on what has been said. Clarke can't help but look at his form, again and again, trying to assure herself that this is real, that he's alive, that in this timeline, she's got a chance to save his life. If he notices, he doesn't say anything, doesn't try to stop her, and Clarke basks in the warmth that comes with the knowledge that she is understood. They're nearing the end of the game, and so far it's a stalemate. She wonders if that's because she's learned what it means to sacrifice and order people to their deaths.

"Raven told me you fell in love."

Wells' words make her drop the pawn she was holding, and he laughs at her reaction. She glares at him half-heartedly as she picks up what she dropped all the while trying not to think about green eyes and black blood.

"Tell me about them," he says softly.

It makes her heart ache.

"Are you… Are you sure?" She asks, knowing that it wouldn't be easy for him to hear.

He rolls his eyes at her.

"What, you think I'm so heartbroken that I wouldn't ask about the person who stole my best friend's heart? You know better than that, Griff. Besides, as I've said before. I've known for years that you wouldn't feel the same way about me. Now that I know that there's someone for you, I can finally let go. So, stop delaying. You're clearly bursting at the seams."

Clarke laughs before giving a bone-deep heavy sigh.

"Okay, who is it? You look like you'd run just to be with them," Wells teases.

She supposes that that's an accurate description of how she feels now that she's on the ground.

" _Lexa_ ," she breathes, the name rolling from her tongue like it was always meant to be there and it makes her heart _burn_. She smiles at Wells. "The Commander."

Wells promptly drops his queen.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

His mouth opens and closes, the queen forgotten on the ground.

"Huh," he eventually manages to say. "So that's why Raven told me I don't have a chance. How'd you meet?"

"That's a long story," she says, smile still present at the thought of Lexa on her throne.

"We've got time."

\--------------------

Wells' head is spinning. He doesn't know if it's the burning heat or the fact that they've been trekking through the Dead Zone for almost a week. Either way, he suspects that everyone else is going just a little bit insane. During the first couple of days, he can honestly say that despite the dust and the constant particle in his eye, Earth is beautiful. But now, after six days of literally nothing but sand, Wells and the others are understandably irate.

Murphy has taken to engaging Raven and Clarke into slightly questionable banter and taking shooting lessons from the latter. Raven has disassembled and assembled the radio no less than twenty times in the past few days and has taken to smacking Murphy whenever there's even a slightly acceptable reason for it. Clarke has turned to _exercise_ , of all things. She didn't sleep much after waking the entire camp up screaming two nights ago. Instead, she and Raven would be cycling through the exercises that were given to them up on the Ark, day or night. It's happened so much that they've decided to just switch around the watch rotation so that Raven and Clarke can have the same hours. It's too early to tell, but Wells thinks Clarke's starting to build muscle around her arms and Raven's complaining less about the walk and more about the heat. He should really join them.

At day six with no end in sight, something was bound to happen. Anything, he thinks, anything but more particles getting into his eyes because that's making him wonder if he's going to wake up blind one of these days. That would probably be more interesting than the never-ending sand.

"Clarke," he says, trying to keep the whine out of his voice. "Are we anywhere near where we're supposed to be yet?"

"I really wouldn't know, Wells, but I'll sacrifice a limb if it meant we'll get there in a few minutes."

"Where _are_ we headed anyway?" Murphy grumbles behind him.

"TonDC," Clarke mutters.

"Washington, DC, you mean?" Wells asks, earning him a huff of exhausted laughter from Raven.

"No, she means TonDC. We think they might've named it based on a sign from the Old Earth or something."

"That's… weird," he says, unable to muster up the energy required to be eloquent.

"Everything about the ground is weird, Wells," Clarke interjects. "Did you know that there's a _humongous_ , carnivorous, human-eating gorilla here?"

"Don't joke," he rebukes.

"I'm not. The grounders call it the pauna. I was almost killed by the thing. I really don't recommend it."

"Wonderful," Murphy snarks. "So aside from the perpetual dust I have in my eyes, I have to worry about a bloodthirsty gorilla. Why'd I agree to this again?"

"Because you were bored, asshole," Raven tells him. "But yeah, I can see where your frustration's coming from. I have sand where they're not supposed to be."

Wells cringes at the same time Clarke exclaims "Raven!"

"What? Are you telling me that you aren't itching for a bath right now? I feel like if it isn't the loud footsteps that attract the pauna, it'll probably be our smell. We smell like a men's bathroom."

"You know what, I agree with you there, Raven," Wells says, remembering the less than stellar public comfort rooms in the Ark.

"Speak for yourself, Junior. _I_ have perfect aim," Murphy says.

"Are we sure you have perfect aim or is it that you pee sitting down because you don't have anything to grasp onto?" Raven muses idly. Murphy's affronted expression digs up a laugh from Wells' painfully parched throat.

"Guys, I would literally give anything just to be done with this conversation," Clarke mutters.

"I would give anything for cold water. I think my remaining water bottle is hotter than the sun," Wells retorts, unable to keep from complaining.

He's so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn't notice stop at the front. They end up bumping into each other as a result of the sudden stop. The next thing he knows, he's flat on his back and staring up at the bright sky. He vaguely hears Raven's strangled "Clarke, what the fuck," too intent on what the astounded gasp from the blonde means for them.

"Is it… Is it just me or are those trees?" Clarke says.

Her words are met with a flurry of movement as he, Raven, and Murphy scramble to their feet, hurrying to see what Clarke's seeing.

"Holy shit," Raven exclaims, frozen in her position beside the blonde.

And Wells has never been a religious person considering how the Ark treated a _tree_ like it's sacred. But as he spies the beginnings of a thick forest, Wells could've sworn they were bathed in holy light.

"Anyone opposed to running?" Murphy asks.

His question is met with a unanimous "not me" and before Wells knows it, he's pumping his legs with what little energy he has left, rushing to keep up with the unexpected pace that Clarke and Raven set. He really should join them for exercise.

They run for half an hour without stopping. Slowly but surely, the height of the forest makes itself known, and Wells wonders if anyone could fault him for the desperate tears that burn his eyes. Clarke reaches the goal first, and as soon as her footsteps transition from the sound of dry sand to the crunch of grass and leaves, she falls to the forest floor, heaving and gasping and grinning.

The rest of them aren't far behind.

"Holy," Murphy gasps, "shit. We actually made it."

"Ye of such little faith," Clarke quips beside him, equally breathless.

"Sue me, Princess. We've been out there so long. Can you really blame me for doubting that there's anything more than sand and dust?"

"I mean, no. But still. You gotta trust me, Murph."

"Don't call me that. Also, excuse you, I'm the epitome of trust issues."

"Epitome. Big word. For you, anyway."

Murphy gives a bout of surprised laughter. "Didn't know you had that kind of sass in you, Clarke."

"Did you just… call me by my name?"

"Yeah, yeah, don't let it go to your head."

Wells hears rustling and looks up to find Clarke back on her feet. Honestly, he doesn't know where she's getting the energy to do anything.

"Aww, Murphy," the blonde says, reaching a hand to both Murphy and Wells and pulling them up to their feet with a strength that should not have surprised Wells as much as it did. "I didn't know you cared."

Clarke moves to haul to Raven to her feet much to the latter's disdain.

"Hate to break up this pissing contest," Raven mutters, "but what's the plan now?"

"Okay, everybody quiet."

The order comes out of nowhere, and it's enough for all of them to fall silent. Wells watches the blonde close her eyes, seemingly concentrating on something. He wonders if she's talking to the god in her. A minute later, she opens her eyes, gaze fixed northward.

"I think I hear the river close. You guys make camp here. I'll check the river out, and if I'm not back by sundown, _do not_ look for me," Clarke says.

"But-" Wells begins.

"It's alright, Wells, I know the ground better than you, and Raven knows what to do."

"The hell I do!" Raven's outburst shocks him. "It's not wise to wander the woods the alone, Clarke. You, of all people, should know that. What if the Mountain gets you or you're caught in the acid fog? How are we supposed to help you then?"

"Raven, I need you here in case Anya comes early. And besides, I know these woods."

That seems to give Raven pause. "From when you left Camp Jaha?"

"Yep," Clarke says, sheepishly.

"Fine," Raven relents. "You have your weapons?"

"A gun and two knives," Clarke promises.

"Okay. If you're not back in a couple of hours, I'm going to look for you."

Clarke nods before turning on her heel and heading toward the direction she pointed out earlier.

"Well," Raven says, "now that that's sorted. You boys set up the tent while I start the fire and set up the radio for later. I don't care if you see anything out there, do not, and I mean _do not_ , wander off. It may be the last thing you do."

Not for the first time, Wells wonders what the ground has to offer other than countless threats to their lives.

\--------------------

_Walk quietly, Clarke_ , Wanheda reminds her as soon as she breaks away from her friends. _Focus your movements on the heels of your feet. There, good. How did you know there would be a river near your camp?_

Clarke thinks of Anya and the river they fell to. _The grass is greener in this direction, and I listened for it. I'm not sure if there is a river here, but if I'm not mistaken the sound we're hearing is a current. That's why I shut everyone up. Anya always said we were goufas with footsteps as loud as a pauna's._

Wanheda chuckles. _Not you and Raven. But your other friends, yes. They would have scared prey away._

Clarke creeps through the forest as quietly as she can, straining her ears to keep the sound of the river in her radar. Out of habit, she surveys the trees, looking for cameras that the _Maunon_ may be using to target the grounders. It feels good to have the grass beneath her feet, but it will take a lot for her to forget the horrors she faced and the habits she formed as a result.

Luckily, it doesn't take long for her to find what she's looking for. She spots a rope at the edge of the river and decides to retrieve it just in case. Carefully, she wades into the river, keeping an eye out in case a snake makes a pincushion out of her. She shudders at the memory of their first encounter with river snakes.

_They are rather unpleasant, aren't they?_ Wanheda chuckles in response to the memory.

_That's an understatement. How far are we from camp?_

_Half a candle mark_.

Clarke nods unconsciously.

_Not too far then. Would you know how far TonDC is?_

_Unfortunately not. I have not been to the woods in a very long time_. That catches Clarke's attention.

_Why?_

_My last vessel was not Trikru._ Wanheda offers no further explanation but that. Clarke decides to drop it, knowing that sooner or later, she will learn about the previous vessels.

Just as she was making her way out of the river, a familiar sound reaches her ears. Slowly, she lifts her eyes from where they were focused on her feet to meet a pair of bright yellow eyes. A two-headed lion. Wonderful. Not even an hour back in the woods and she just happened to be found by a predator.

_Move. Slowly. Take the knife. I will guide you_ , Wanheda says sternly, each word layered with a command. Clarke follows, keeping her eye on the predator in front of her. Slowly and quietly, she unsheathes the knife, finding herself wishing that she had a sword or even a bow instead. Using the gun would be out of the question because she doesn't know what else the sound might attract. _Fuck_ , she thinks.

_Consider the start of your training with me. I would have liked for you to be eased into the process, but we do not have a choice. Spread your feet and dig into the ground. Wait for it to move. Do not take your eyes off of it,_ Wanheda instructs as Clarke resists the urge to smack her face in response to her rotten luck. Instead, she follows her instructions, moving incrementally. Her eyes are burning with the effort of keeping herself from blinking, but from one blink to the next, she knows she could quickly turn from being the hunter to being the prey.

_Should it pounce on you, aim for the belly. If it charges you, aim for the eye._

_It has four eyes. Which eye?_ Clarke thinks, slightly panicked and more than a little bit stressed.

_Whichever is closest to you. If you stab it deep enough, it will kill one head._

Wanheda says nothing about the second head, but right now, Clarke can't afford to think about it. She bends her legs, shifting her center of gravity to her core, knowing she's more stable in the position. Not two seconds later, the animal releases a deep, rumbling growl that shakes her to her bones.

_Have courage. I am with you_ , Wanheda says despite the urgency in her tone.

Clarke swallows and wipes her mind clean of any other thoughts. Seemingly in slow motion, she watches the lion lean back on its haunches, maws dropping open.

It charges.

Clarke dodges, barely keeping her arm out of one of the maws. She scrambles out of the riverbed and plants her feet on solid ground as the lion drops to the river. Without hesitation, she takes out her other knife, eyes still trained on the predator.

For a moment, the forest stills. She and the lion breathes.

In the next second, the lion charges again and this time, Clarke meets it halfway, dodging another bite before launching her entire body into the side of the predator. It snaps and growls at her as it struggles to its feet. Clarke holds on to its neck for dear life.

_Clarke! The eye!_

Clarke gives a war cry and stabs one of the heads in the eye just as the lion charges to a nearby tree. Her grip is thrown off, but she uses the backward momentum to dig the knife deeper into the head before letting go and rolling to the ground. She scrambles up to her feet, registering a distant pain in the shoulder she used to catch herself. She doesn't have time to worry about it because the lion charges again, enraged at the death of one of its heads. Clarke barely has time to catch her breath before the lion is suddenly on her, remaining head right next to hers.

_Use your legs!_

Legs. She can do that. She kicks the lion through its belly and, with a strength she didn't know she had, throws it off of her. She doesn't wait. She stands up and runs to tackle the lion, pinning it to the ground with a hand to its massive throat. She takes her other knife and stabs it into its belly, dragging it down, hoping that the bigger wound will kill it faster. She leaves the knife inside the predator and uses both hands to keep its head still as it struggles to get free. Clarke ducks as a paw make to swipe at her face but she doesn't get far enough to protect her chest. She gives a pained grunt and holds on for as long as she can.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the lion turns limp, the blood loss catching up to it. It lets out a soft growl that makes tears jump to Clarke's eyes. Slowly, she lets go before yanking the knife out of its belly. She meets its eyes, biting down on her bottom lip before whispering _yu gonplei ste odon_ and slitting its throat.

As soon as it takes its last breath, Clarke falls to the ground, breathing heavily, tears running down her face. She clenches her jaw, trying to steady her breathing and calm her trembling body.

_Are you alright, Clarke?_ Wanheda asks softly.

_It's dead_ , she says listlessly, staring at the once-mighty predator in front of her and the blood pooling at her feet. She wonders when she'll save a life instead of taking it.

_It is the way of life, ai gona. It has killed prey to survive, and today, you killed it for the same. Do not fault yourself for the death you brought upon it. If you had let it live, it may have killed you and your friends in the dead of the night. If it had not been you to kill it, then it will have been prey to another predator. You did well, Clarke. You gave it an honorable death. I may make a hunter out of you yet_.

Wanheda's words bring her comfort. She unclenches her jaw and releases a pained breath. She takes stock of her injuries. Her shoulder isn't broken or dislocated but it is sprained. She moves back to the river, tearing her shirt off and pouring water on her chest, not bothering to take off her undershirt. It hurts like hell but she bites the inside of her cheek. Taking her shirt, she washes it free of grime, before using it to wipe her chest down and revealing three long gashes from her collarbone to the top of her breast. She will have to stitch it. She hopes they have the equipment. Otherwise, she may need to burn it shut.

She takes her wet shirt and wipes at her head and seeing more blood. It must have been from when she was thrown off. Now that the adrenaline is slowly fading, Clarke finds herself in pain. Groaning, she picks herself up and takes the rope she retrieved from earlier. With practiced ease, she ties the rope around the lion's throat and gives it an experimental tug. Satisfied, she turns and hauls it back with her.

Of course, because at this point, she's convinced the universe hates her, the lion is heavier than it looks, which is saying something considering it's _huge_. It takes her twice as long to reach the camp, but the moment it comes into view, she breathes a sigh of relief.

The group outside the tent turns to her as soon as she steps into their line of sight, and Clarke forgets to chokes on air.

"Skaiprisa."

\--------------------

There were few things in life that Anya believed in. One, the commander's spirit could not have chosen anyone better than _Leksa_. Two, death is an irrefutable part of a warrior's life. And three, Titus is a _nomonjoka_ that should have been kicked off the tower years ago. She knows that she had already met Wanheda, but up until this moment, she had been convinced that it was a dream, a product of her overactive imagination. So, when Heda sent her to investigate reports of a metal vessel falling from the sky, she rode as hard as she could.

She was eager.

She was eager to prove herself right – that Wanheda is a dream, that Clarke and Raven do not exist, that she had not left Lexa behind once upon a time. Before she knew it, she had arrived at TonDC a day earlier than expected. She handed her team and _seken_ off to Indra, instructing them to protect the village from the _ripas_ that Indra had told the Commander about. She only stayed long enough to get a full night's rest before mounting her horse and traveling to the point where she instructed Clarke and Raven to go.

Anya did not expect to see them there. And yet, there they were. She watched as two boys set up the tent and as Raven busied herself. For the first time since she became _Leksa's_ general, Anya hesitated. Approaching them would mean that it was real, that she did die, that she had the let _Leksa_ mourn so soon after Costia's death. Just as she was contemplating whether or not to make her presence known, her horse stepped on a branch. Later, she'd be impressed at how fast Raven reacted to the sound as the brunette's head whipped up and locked gazes with her.

She watched the mechanic straighten and make her way forward. Out of instinct (because she still cannot believe that this is real), she swung a sword once Raven was close enough, only stopping near her neck. Raven did not flinch. And again, Anya finds herself impressed.

"Hello, cheekbones. You here to start a war again?" Raven asks with a smirk firmly in place and hands deep within her pockets.

"Depends. Did you burn down a village again?" Anya retorts, awareness slowly seeping back into her body.

"Not that I know of."

"Then no, you will not die today."

Anya dismounts and offers an arm to Raven, and the mechanic doesn't hesitate to offer hers back.

"It's been a while, _Reivon kom Skaikru_ ," she greets.

"Did you miss us, cheekbones?"

Anya scoffs. "Your people would benefit more if you let _Klark_ do the talking."

Raven laughs and squeezes her forearm before dropping it. She turns and calls out "boys!" and Anya watches as the two she saw from earlier stumbles out of the tent. She barely resists the urge to roll her eyes at their shaking legs.

"This is Anya. Be nice, she can kill you," Raven introduces.

Anya observes as the words of the mechanic washes over the two boys. The taller one, Murphy if she's not mistaken, stiffens on his feet while the other one stops in his tracks. Well, at least they have survival instincts even if they could attract a pauna from miles away.

"Don't be afraid. She doesn't bite. Much," Raven says, turning to wink at her. "I believe you know Murphy, and this dude right here is Wells."

"Yeah, I think it's time for the explanation I was promised, isn't it?" Murphy mutters, nodding slightly at her. " _I_ certainly don't know you."

"Patience, Murphy. Clarke will explain when she gets back. We need you onboard sooner rather than later, and I would prefer it if you could stop reaching to the back of your hands for the gun."

At Raven's words, Anya surveys the camp noticing that the _skaiprisa_ is not within the perimeter.

"Where is Wanheda?" She asks as she follows Raven closer to the tent. "Has she gotten herself killed yet?"

"Nope. Not for a lack of trying though," Raven mumbles before shooting Murphy a look that makes the boy throw his hands up in surrender. Anya thinks it better not to ask. "We haven't contacted the Ark in case you were wondering. I'm in the middle of setting it up so Clarke can talk to them later. Would you like to be here for that? Actually, wait, she'll want you here for that."

Anya nods but before she can say anything in response, the sound of rustling reaches the camp. Immediately, she and Raven turn to the source. From her periphery, the boys take a second to catch up, and Anya decides that it's a wonder that this group is alive at all. Slowly, Clarke emerges from the tree line, and she moves closer to the camp, Anya can see blood. Clarke is already looking at her as she makes her way forward, and the warrior finds herself under the weight of intense blue eyes that remind her of _Leksa_ in many ways.

"Skaiprisa," she greets, giving the blonde a nod.

Anya watches as Clarke swallows, a strange emotion passing through blue eyes. She wonders what the blonde is thinking; if this reality is also strange for her.

" _Hei, Onya kom Trikru_ ," Clarke greets in acceptable Trigedasleng. Anya finds herself grudgingly impressed.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Raven exclaims and moves forward before anyone can do anything.

Clarke shrugs, the action painful if the barely concealed wince is anything to go by.

"Caught us dinner."

Anya watches as she hauls the rope a few more steps near the fire. Clarke drops the rope with a sigh of relief, moving aside for everyone to see what 'dinner' entailed. Wells and Raven gasp while Murphy lets out a low whistle of appreciation. Anya walks toward the body of the dead predator, crouching down to inspect its injuries. The _skaiprisa_ seems to have killed it thrice, judging by the missing eye and the gashes along its throat and belly. The kill could have been cleaner but nevertheless, Anya feels grudging respect well within her. She looks up to find Clarke studying her.

"This lion has killed many, including a father and a healer in TonDC," her words seem to comfort Clarke, and it makes Anya wonder this woman, who wears her heart on her sleeve, could have been chosen as Wanheda's vessel. "We will need to work on your methods."

"I don't care what that thing has killed. I leave you alone for an hour – _an hour_ Clarke – and you come back like this!" Raven says, grabbing the medical pack that Wells hands her. "Sit your ass down, Griffin or I swear I'll cut your godly ass down."

The blonde does what she's told. "It's not my fault, Rae. It was behind me as soon as I got to the river. What the hell else was I supposed to do? Let it maul me? And besides, my _godly ass_? Raven Reyes, have you been staring at my butt?"

Instantly, the camp lightens at her words. Murphy lets out a bark of laughter and Wells, though clearly worried, chuckles. Anya huffs at the _skaiprisa's_ apparent influence.

"I had no choice, asshole. I walked behind you for six days. It was either you or sand, and I already have the latter in places where it shouldn't be."

This time, Anya doesn't try to stop her smirk. Raven notices. "Not a word, Anya," she mutters before turning to Clarke. "Speaking of, tell me there aren't any poisonous snakes in the river. We could all use a bath. My vagina's drier _and_ sandier than the Sahara, and that's saying something."

Clarke's jaw falls open as Wells smacks himself and Murphy gasps through another bout of laughter. "What? Don't be such a prude, Clarke."

" _No_ , you don't need to worry about snakes. I can't really promise anything else though," she says as she gestures toward the lion beside Anya.

Raven offers no response, too busy trying to clean the gashes that Anya can now clearly make out against pale skin. She watches Clarke's face. The blonde had not winced or pulled away beyond the initial hiss at the mechanic's effort to clean her wounds. She seemed to have gotten used to the pain, but judging by the continuous bleeding of her chest injuries, Anya suspects that there will be more pain. Sure enough, Clarke tells the group herself.

"I don't think it's going to stop bleeding anytime soon, and I'd rather not die of blood loss. Can we stitch it?"

Raven rummages through the medical pack, pulling out a needle and a thread.

"I don't suppose there's numbing cream in there somewhere?"

"Nope," Raven says. "You'll have to make do with good old-fashioned stitching."

Clarke sighs. "Yeah, okay. Hand me those." At Raven's dubious glance, the blonde rolls her eyes. "It's fine, I can do it. Not the first time I've had to stitch myself up."

The mechanic nods hesitantly. Anya keeps her mouth shut, content to watch from the sidelines. Her eyes do not stray from Clarke's face even as the blonde begins to stitch herself up. She can see clenched jaws, but no sound escapes. She can hear grinding teeth, but she does not hesitate to dig the needle into her flesh again and again. She can recognize pain in blue eyes, but she does not shake. Anya doesn't know what she went through after her death, but somewhere along the way, the _skaiprisa_ learned to take the pain and breathe with it. She has grown into something that Anya only vaguely recognizes compared to the girl she first met, who was terrified and brave and utterly _weak_. Anya wonders what it took for her people to call this girl Wanheda.

She holds on to this question for as long as possible.

Anya allows the group to take their much-needed baths. As they play like _goufas_ in the water, she keeps a close eye on them, biting her tongue from cursing them. Instead, she busies herself by preparing the lion Clarke brought for dinner. The practiced movements of skinning the animal bring her some comfort, but all the while, she reminds herself to ask Clarke about what happened. As she watches the meat cook and as she listens to the movement of the group in the tent as they change into cleaner clothes, Anya wonders if she really wants to know the answer because she can only hear two in the tent despite knowing there are four.

" _Hei, Onya_ ," Clarke greets as she sits beside her. "Are you alright?"

She bristles. "Do not waste your time worrying about me, Skaiprisa."

Clarke holds her hands up, an amused but hesitant smile on her face.

"I have questions that you will answer," Anya says, watching as Clarke sobers and nods.

"I will. I'll contact the Ark while we wait for dinner. And then, I will tell you everything you want to know."

"We’re ready for that now if you want, Clarke," Raven interjects from behind. "I managed to get the video working. I wanted to give you a heads up in case Jaha senior makes his appearance."

"He probably will," Clarke mutters as she gets up and moves toward the radio that Raven placed right beside the campfire. "Alright, let's do this."

Clarke breathes for a few seconds. Anya can see how she draws herself to her full height, back ramrod straight. She continues to watch as Clarke the teenager takes a backseat to the leader that Anya has only glimpsed a few times before. Unbidden, a memory of _Leksa_ before she became Heda comes to the forefront of her mind.

"Anya, they will need to see you as proof that there are grounders. Are you comfortable with that?" And Anya knows that she expects nothing but agreement, so she gives it. "I'll call you over as soon as it's brought up. Until then, stay there. Wells, your father will expect you."

The boy moves to stand behind Clarke and Raven, and Anya swallows the anger that comes with being ordered by someone other than the Commander.

"Ready?" Raven asks. Clarke gives an almost imperceptive nod. "Alright then. Earth to Ark, this is Raven Reyes. Do you read me?"

\--------------------

When Jake agreed to let Clarke do what she needs to do, he knew he would worry. Day six into the waiting game and he finally figured out that 'worrying' might have been a grave understatement. He hasn't slept properly since the kids dropped down to the ground, and Abby has spent so much time in the Ark's hospital that he ends up worried about her too. He tries not to bother her because he knows that she has some things to work through, but by day six, he ends up sitting in her office with the radio set on the desk in front of him. His wife isn't there, but the proximity is enough to bring him some form of comfort. It's not enough, but for now, it'll do.

When the radio lit up like Christmas, Jake thinks he might have a heart attack and is suddenly thankful that he decided to go to the infirmary. He grabs the radio, dashes out of the office, and grabs Abby before she can protest.

"Jake, what-"

"Earth to Ark, this is Raven Reyes. Do you read me?" Raven's voice brings tears to Abby's eyes as her hands fly up to her mouth.

Jake doesn't waste time. He presses the button.

"Raven?" He asks, slightly worried that he might be losing his mind.

"Hey, boss. Before you worry, Clarke's right here with me. She's a little banged up, but we're all okay. I set up the video for this. Do you think you can set it up on your end? Oh and grab our dearest Chancellor while you're in the process."

Jake clears his throat, trying to fight back the tears.

"Yeah, okay. Give me ten minutes. _Do not go anywhere_ ," he responds, already pulling Abby out of the infirmary.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Jake dashes through the halls, impatiently knocking on Thelonious' door. He must've been in the middle of dinner because he was still chewing when he answered the door. Unfortunately for Thelonious, Jake doesn't have time to contemplate further. He only mutters a quick radio and a hasty point to the device in his hand before he has a hand wrapped around the Chancellor's arm. He drags him alongside his wife.

As soon as they reach his office, he whirlwinds through the wires, cursing every so often in his haste. Finally, _finally_ , the screen blinks and Raven's face fills it. She looks like she'd seen better days what with the bags under her eyes, but this might be the best he'd ever seen her.

"Well, you're a sight for sore eyes," Jake says, sure that the tears burning his eyes are apparent.

"Good to see you, too, boss. Hi, Mama G. Chancellor."

"Raven, is Clarke-?" Abby begins to ask but doesn't get to finish as Raven moves aside and their daughter takes up her space.

Jake breathes deeply for the first time in days.

"Hey, mom. Hey, dad. Hello, Chancellor," Clarke greets, a small smile on her face.

Jake can see a gauze peeking up his daughter's undershirt and a small gash on her forehead. He can't help it. He cries.

"Aww, dad, don't cry. I'm okay," Clarke hurries to assure him.

"What happened to you?" Abby asks beside him.

"Got attacked by a two-headed lion. All good though. It's our dinner now," Clarke jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Two-headed what now?" Thelonious says in bewilderment. "Never mind. Clarke, is Wells there?"

Clarke doesn't respond as she pulls Wells into the frame.

"Hi, dad," his voice comes through the tiny speakers.

And Jake knows that nothing has been the same for Thelonious' family since his wife died and he became Chancellor. He hasn't seen his best friend show any real emotion in years, but right now, he can Thelonious drop the façade he'd perfected over the years. He softens and slumps in relief.

"Hello, son," he croaks. Jake doesn't agree with a lot of what his best friend has done over the years, but he can forget about that for the moment. He claps a hand on Thelonious' shoulder.

Clarke retakes the front and center.

"We spent six days in the desert," she reports, voice taking on a more serious note and graciously ignoring the three crying adults. "We made camp when we could, but for the most part, we walked all the way to the forest. We're stopping here for the night, but I wanted to let you guys know as soon as we weren't surrounded by sand and dust."

Jake nods, and Clarke takes that as her queue to continue.

"There are people on the ground," she says.

_That_ breaks them out of their stupor. Jake moves aside to let Thelonious take his space.

"Do you have proof of this, Clarke?"

"As a matter of fact, Chancellor, I do."

They watch as she turns her head to the side and nods her head. There's a silent command in her eyes that Jake has only ever seen in passing. A few seconds later, his group takes a sharp intake of breath as a woman who's definitely older than Clarke and dressed in black leather takes her place beside his daughter. He vaguely hears the whisper of "it's all true" from Abby, too intent on studying the emotionless face of the grounder.

"This is Anya _kom Trikru_ , one of the Commander's general," Clarke introduces.

"Greetings, Sky People."

Thelonious releases the breath he's been holding.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Thelonious responds. "I trust that the kids are well taken care of?"

That was evidently the wrong thing to say as Clarke's eyes flash an ethereal blue and as the grounder, _Anya_ , bristles. Fortunately, Wells jumps back into the frame.

"Dad, we're good, we're okay," he says, an undercurrent of warning in his tone.

Thelonious' brow furrows but thankfully doesn't say anything more on the matter. Not that he had a choice because Clarke overtakes the conversation.

"The goal of the Ark is to come down to Earth, Chancellor. Have you had time to check how long the oxygen systems will hold?"

"We have," Thelonious responds. "Two years."

"Have our people been told?"

"No. And I don’t plan on letting them know."

Clarke nods like it was expected, but Jake knows that she'll be talking to him about that at a later time.

"Earth is livable. And I realize that my injuries say otherwise, but these," she gestures to her head and chest, "are part and parcel of everyday life on the ground. I was hunted by a predator and so I made a prey out of it."

"I understand, Clarke," Thelonious intones. "I suggest making your way to Mount Weather. Our sources say there are resources there."

"No."

The word rings throughout the office, and this time, Jake cannot mistake the power behind it. Unintentionally, he freezes, feeling Abby do the same beside him. Thelonious, bless his ignorant soul, is only confused.

"No?"

"No."

"And why is that Clarke?" He asks condescendingly.

"Because, _Chancellor_ , Mount Weather has only one goal: to step foot out of their prison. It is home to people much like ours, but vastly different in other ways. General Anya has informed me that the Mountain Men, or _Maunon_ as they call them, have kidnapped their people for years. The _Maunon_ are unable to survive the radiation. Would you like to take a wild guess as to what they do to the grounders and what they will certainly do to us?"

Thelonious sighs. "But Clarke-"

She ignores him. "They hang the grounders up as blood bags. They take their marrow, a process that kills the person, and implants it into their own people. It doesn't end there. The _Maunon_ drugs their victims and turns them into man-eating monsters. So, let's make a checklist of reasons why _not_ to go to Mount Weather, shall we?"

Clarke raises a hand.

"One, they will bleed us dry. Two, they've already bled hundreds of people dry. Three, they have turned perfectly normal, functional human beings into cannibals. And four, we are the perfect prey. Does that answer your question, Chancellor?"

"Okay, Clarke. We can talk about this when we've all had time to rest," Thelonious deflects.

"Then that's what we'll do," Clarke agrees. "For now, you may want to reevaluate your decisions regarding our people. There are _thousands_ of grounders here. They thrive and survive, and they have a culture of their own. If you want to survive here on the ground, peace is a necessity. Do not treat me like a child, Chancellor, because I am far more aware of what is on my shoulders than you are."

That leaves Thelonious speechless and Jake couldn't really blame him considering his daughter has managed to tear the Chancellor into pieces within the five minutes they were on this call.

"Clarke, can you call us back in two days?" Jake interrupts before a fight breaks out. His daughter softens.

"Sure, dad. Same time?"

"Yes, please."

"Take care of yourself and Raven," Abby reminds.

"Will do, mom. I miss and love you both," Clarke says softly.

"Don't you worry, Mama G. We got this," Raven assures as Wells nods in the background.

"Good night, guys."

The screen turns black and Thelonious turns to him as soon as it does.

"It seems we have a lot to talk about," he mutters.

"Yes, we do," Jake says firmly.

\--------------------

Murphy doesn't get to sleep that night.

He stays by the campfire just as Clarke requested him to when they finally settled after dinner. He sits beside the blonde while the grounder claims the seat across Clarke. He hadn't given it much thought considering he'd been too busy cursing the Dead Zone for the state it left them in. But seeing Clarke interact with the grounder brought up a startling thought that propelled him to keep his mouth shut when Clarke asked him to stay: what if it was all true?

As it turns out, he'll have to shift his entire worldview with the talk of gods and goddesses and death and reincarnation and time travel. The grounder gave nothing away beyond the sharp questions she asked, but when Clarke finally choked out how the Commander died ("she was shot because I was hers"), Murphy got a glimpse of otherworldly anger that fueled the harsh culture of those on the ground. He could sympathize though because apparently, he had shot Raven and rendered her a cripple in the previous timeline. The bile that rose to his throat is unexpected. He had always known that he was capable of terrible things, but to know that the mechanic held memories of him and a gun and a bullet lodged in her spine places things into perspective.

Murphy remembers his mother's last words and feels the echo of an age-old pain as the memory reminds him that words can hurt a whole lot more than the sharpest knife. So, he falls silent. He knows that Clarke does not blame him in this timeline, but he can also remember the countless times that Raven seemed to touch her thigh like she was expecting it to hurt whenever he was near. He swallows, trying to push through the urge to retch. Instead, he focuses on the heartbreak written so plainly on Clarke's face as she recounts the events after the Commander's death. It's potent, and it makes the air around them stifling so much so that he's surprised she hasn't cried.

"I haven't told anyone beyond Raven," Clarke whispers into the dark of the night. "I couldn't. But Anya, you deserve to know.

He barely resists the urge to ask why she had let him stay when he shouldn't be trusted, when he shot her friend in the spine and made her live through a lifetime of pain. For the first time since two girls barged into his cell and turned his world upside down, he reframes the question from "what can I take from them?" to "what do they see in me?" So, he clenches his jaw until it hurts, deciding to leave his questions unanswered for now.

As soon as Clarke finishes the story, he stands up and without a word, turns and walks into the tent. Neither Clarke nor the grounder, Anya, he reminds himself, move to stop him. As he lifts the flap and enters, he lets out a bone-weary sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. Wells is fast asleep in his sleeping bag on the ground, but when he lifts his gaze upward to the cot where Raven and Clarke sleep, he's startled out of his thoughts by the sight of brown eyes looking straight into his.

He gulps.

"Come to shoot me again, Murphy?" Raven asks, hand already soothing her leg.

Murphy follows the action, and unconsciously, he slumps.

"No. Not tonight anyway," he responds with a steadiness that goes against everything he feels inside. "Can't really promise anything though."

Because he's already done it once. What's stopping him from doing it again? He moves to sit on his sleeping bag, already knowing that he won't be getting a wink of rest tonight. Silence reigns within the tent and he feels the familiar beginnings of his spiral down. He's no stranger to anger, but directing the emotion toward himself is another beast entirely. As far as he's concerned, he's only known Raven and Clarke and Wells for a week. But hearing about a different version of him out there that has survived far more than he thought he could made him wonder if he would feel the same about them in this timeline.

_Feelings_ , he thinks wryly, _pesky, little things_.

"I trust you, you know," Raven's voice breaks through his thoughts.

"Yeah? Good for you," he says mostly in reflex. Immediately, he feels contrite. "Sorry-"

She cuts him off with a scoff. "You're an asshole, Murphy, I don't expect you to change. But I wanted to let you know that I trust you anyway."

He swallows.

"How can you? As we all know, I'm perfectly capable of shooting you."

Raven shifts her body until she's fully facing him.

"Because I know who you can be. And that's more than enough for me."

"You don't know that I'm going to fess up the way I did in that… _timeline_. I'm an entirely different person," he responds, not really knowing why he's telling her these things.

"You're right," she agrees easily. "But I believe that you'll grow up. The ground has a way of doing that. And if not, Clarke would never let you fall into the deep end. She's persistent like that."

It's not what he wants to hear, but at the thought that someone will always be there to keep him in line makes the heat of the gun pressed against his back burn a little less.

"I noticed," he snarks. "Who was she before all of this?"

Raven chuckles.

"Prissy bitch who my boyfriend cheated with," he stares at her incredulously.

By sunrise, Murphy learns a little more about the person Clarke used to be. He gets an answer to one of his questions: it takes a lifetime of pain and death and heartbreak to make someone like Clarke – someone who can stand in front of an entire civilization even if it kills her.

Murphy doesn't know if he has what it takes to stand with her.

\--------------------

Clarke falls asleep on the log she's sitting on for all of half an hour before she's rudely woken by her own panting breaths and a racing heart. Her ears ring with the remnants of screaming, and she quickly concludes that she dreamt of a memory. Being this close to the Mountain, she should have expected the nightmares, but as the memory of burning flesh and listless eyes flash repeatedly in front of her eyes, she jumps to her feet unintentionally. Before she can act on her instinct to _run_ , there's a strong, bruising grip at the top of her arms.

Panicked, she struggles.

"Breathe, _skaiprisa_ ," Anya mutters. "You are a healer. You know what is happening. Match my breathing."

It's a struggle, but she eventually inhales and exhales in time with Anya. She keeps her eyes trained on the browns of Anya's, focusing on the pain she feels at the warrior's grip. It grounds her.

"Thanks," she gasps as soon as she catches her breath.

Anya studies her, probably trying to see if she's stable enough to be free of her grip. She must find what she's looking for because a second later, the cold replaces the warmth from Anya's hands. She barely resists the urge to ask to be held.

"Does that happen frequently?"

Clarke nods. "We're too close to the Mountain," she offers by way of an explanation.

"You should not feel guilt for what you have done. The _Maunon_ has taken our people for generations. What you did may be a nightmare to you but it is a blessing to many. You ended a long-fought war. I do not delude myself into thinking that I understand what it means to kill an entire people, but you did what had to be done," Anya explains albeit grudgingly.

"How do you make peace with it so easily?"

"We are warriors, _Klark_ ," the sound of her name pulls Lexa in the forefront of her mind once again. She shakes her head free of piercing green eyes. "We understand that death is a part of life. But if you are asking how we ensure that we sleep at night without the dead haunting us, then the answer is kill marks."

"Kill marks?"

Anya huffs before turning her back and lifting her tunic up. Clarke spots at least five rows of straight, short lines that start from the warrior's left shoulder and end on her right.

"This is how many people I have killed. We carry the marks to remind us of the lives we took because while death is inevitable, it is never without a price."

"'If death has no cost, life has no worth'," Clarke says, remembering what Lincoln told her.

Anya only nods as she drops the hem of her shirt and turns back to face her. Clarke bites the bottom of her lip in contemplation. She has not killed anyone in this timeline but the weight of the deaths she caused in her original life weighs heavily on her shoulders. Before she can think further, a sword drops in front of her. She raises an eyebrow at Anya who gestures at the weapon.

"Pick it up," she orders.

"Why?"

"If you are awake enough to ask questions, then you must be awake enough to train your body."

Clarke stares at the weapon for a second longer before moving to pick it up. The weight is familiar in her hands, and it makes her remember both red and black blood. If she blinks long enough, she knows she will feel the warmth that is usually accompanied by the cold of the dead.

"Will you train me then?" She asks the impatient warrior before her. She grips the handle like her life depends on it. "I would like to be fast enough to stop bullets."

Anya grins something sinister.

"If you think you can take it, Wanheda."

\--------------------

Lexa shifts as subtly as she can atop her horse.

She had made the decision to wait before going to TonDC. Anya informed her of what she had found in the wreckage that the messenger from months ago relayed. Her _fos_ had told her of the invaders – four kids who were sent to the ground to see if Earth is livable. Anya had tried to explain it the best she can, but Lexa suspects that there is far more to the story than what she has managed to relay. Five months ago, the Coalition had been new and fragile in the way a fawn would struggle to its legs for the first time since its birth. She could not afford to leave and had left the decision on what to do with the invaders solely on Anya. She requested to be updated every once in a while, and her general was diligent in doing so.

Thus far, she knows that the four invaders are nothing more than teenagers, that they use _fayagon_ in the same way the _Maunon_ do, that their leader is a girl by the name of Clarke. Anya has made the decision to train them, justifying it as a way for the _branwoda_ to contribute to the betterment of TonDC. For a moment, she pities the four, knowing firsthand that Anya is brutal and cruel in her methods. At the same time, she feels a spike of petty jealousy in the pit of her stomach because Anya is her _fos_. Of course, she says nothing of the sort in their correspondence. Instead, she reminds her to be safe, knowing that Anya will understand what she means – that Lexa cannot handle another loss so soon after Costia.

Forcefully, she blinks the memory of her away and reminds herself that love is weakness. She brings her focus back on the road in front of her, knowing that they are a quarter of a candle mark from seeing the beginnings of TonDC. Indra has not sent any more requests for new forces, and Lexa takes that as a sign that Anya's company had been more than enough to protect the village from the _Maunon_. She does find it strange that the village chief has yet to complain about the four new additions, but she suspects she will find out soon enough.

By the time Gustus announces their arrival to TonDC, Lexa is weary. She had made the decision to travel at night, hoping to avoid the usual fuss of her people rejoicing at her presence. She loved them dearly, but since losing Costia, she has lost all reason to attend such festivities.

Lexa dismounts her horse, giving it an affectionate pat on its neck before letting Gustus take him. She spots a strange tent by the entrance of the village and knows instinctively that that is where the four invaders reside. She's surprised that Indra let them be anywhere near TonDC let alone inside it. She does not get more time to contemplate the overall strangeness that surrounds the four because Anya appears by her side, always seemingly aware of when Lexa is anywhere near her vicinity.

"Heda," she nods respectfully before offering her arm. Lexa grasps it, surprised to find that she had missed her friend dearly.

" _Onya_."

"You look like shit."

Lexa lets her lips lift up into a small but genuine smile that Anya does not hesitate to return before she sobers again.

"I trust that there are no urgent incidents?" _With the four invaders_ , she leaves unsaid. Anya nods.

"None, Heda. They have been surprisingly useful in protecting the village. I would not have expected it from a bunch of ignorant _branwodas_ ," Anya reports, just a little bit disdainful. "They will be up soon."

Lexa turns her haze skyward before raising an eyebrow at her _fos_.

"I managed to beat them into waking before sunrise. It involved bruises and ice cold water."

Lexa resists the urge to cringe at Anya's giddy smile.

"They were worse than you were when you were a _yongon_. But I guess you could say that they are nothing if not persistent. I have given them an impossible task today. Would you like to observe it?"

"And what impossible task have you given them, _Onya_?" Lexa asks, letting her amusement heard.

"Hunting the pauna."

At that, Lexa feels her brows disappear into her hairline. She had known that Anya was ruthless and cruel, but being made to hunt a pauna is not something to be taken lightly. Especially not for four people who have had less than half a year of training. Anya waves her surprise away.

"They will be fine, Heda, if not a little bit bruised and battered. They cannot afford to be eased into it. Besides, their leader is a stubborn _prisa_ who insisted on hunting the pauna after she healed a boy who was attacked by the thing. Her group had much to say about it, but there was no dissuading the _prisa_."

If Lexa didn't know any better, she would say that Anya was annoyed by this _prisa_. But she does know better and she can detect the slightest bit of fondness in her tone. She chooses not to comment on it, preferring to make her judgments once she has interacted with the group herself. For now, she will stay in the shadows, hoping to learn something about them as she does so.

"I will observe from afar. Do not make mention of my arrival in TonDC. You and I will shadow them, and I will trust you to determine whether or not they will need our assistance," she commands.

" _Sha_ , Heda," Anya agrees before turning to look at the tent Lexa spotted earlier. "They are awake now. Let us make ourselves scarce."

Not long after they blended into the trees, four teenagers came out of the tent, each holding a cup of warm liquid in their hands. Her eyes are drawn to who she assumes to be the leader, and her breath catches in her throat. She is ethereal, Lexa thinks. With hair like the sun and dazed blue eyes like the sky, she paints a picture that Lexa cannot help but appreciate. The _prisa_ is donning armor, no doubt in preparation for their encounter with the pauna. From her spot high up in the trees, she can see two swords on her back and a blade strapped to each thigh.

The others are similarly dressed. The dark-skinned boy sports a bow and a full quiver of arrows and as far as she can see, two similarly placed knives. The other boy has a sword strapped to his hip and an ax on his back. The last girl is dressed the most similar to the leader with two swords on her back and the only difference being that she can see no knives on the girl's person. The multitude of weapons in the group surprises Lexa because she knows that Anya would have never let them touch any of it until she is sure that they won't accidentally kill themselves. Again, she holds her tongue.

The silence is broken by the _prisa_ , and as soon as she speaks, Lexa feels something inside her stir alive and roaring within seconds. Unintentionally, she shudders, thankful that Anya seems to be focused on the group in front of them to notice her reaction.

"I know where it hides. The formation is as follows: Murphy and I will be at the front. Raven, you will shadow me. Wells, protect everyone's back, and if you can, aim for the eye. I don't think most of our weapons will do anything to it other than Murphy's ax," she relays.

The group nods.

"If we die, Clarke, I'm killing you myself," the girl with sun-kissed skin grumbles. Not for the first time, Lexa finds herself breathless when the _prisa_ only laughs quietly. Such disrespect would have earned punishment in their culture, this girl, _Klark_ , does not seem at all offended.

"Just so you know, I agree with her," the one called Murphy says.

"Calm down, guys," Wells attempts to placate the group.

"It's alright, Wells," Klark responds. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you guys. Don't worry, we can do this. I'm not saying we'll do it without our fair share of injuries, but I believe in you. Protect each other, watch your back, and listen when I tell you to duck," she says the last statement like it's directed at Murphy who only shrugs in response. "If we succeed, we'll have an interesting dinner _and_ a hopefully less irate Anya."

Beside Lexa, Anya snickers in response.

"Move quietly, and let me know if you hear or see anything. And one last thing."

"We're wasting daylight, Princess," Murphy says, exasperated. Clarke smiles at him and makes eye contact with everyone in her group.

"Don't die."

The words are delivered like there are a million and a half things underneath, and Lexa can see the aftermath of it in how the group sobers and stands up straighter. The air crackles with anticipation, and Lexa can't help but want to see how far they will go in their endeavor. If nothing else, it would prove that their people will not be useless to her and her coalition, or so she tells herself. In perfect unison, the group nods at their leader.

In response, Klark lets a small smile touch her lips before all emotion is wiped from her face. She turns before Lexa can shiver and leads the group out of TonDC.

She finds herself impressed at the pace Klark has set as they move swiftly, smoothly, and quietly through the dim forest. It leads her to believe that they have scouted the area before, but she can also see that the two boys are not as proficient in moving through the forest as the two girls are. Nonetheless, they manage to avoid branches and leaves, and that's enough to tell Lexa that they have been trained to the bone by Anya.

They stop as they near the pauna's cave. She and Anya stay a healthy distance away, watching as the group takes a collective breath as the sound of the grumbling of the beast reaches everyone's ears. Lexa sees Klark survey the perimeter, presumably looking for escape routes and the best possible position for her people. She nods to herself before turning to her group.

"Wells, take that tree."

The boy hastens to follow the command, awkwardly scaling the aforementioned tree but safely reaching a height where he has a clear view of the field beyond the cave and a distance that will allow any of his shots to reach.

"Murphy, you stay out here. Raven, you and I will draw it out here. There's not enough space in the cave for all of us to move."

The two voice out their affirmation. Murphy moves behind a particularly thick trunk and crouches in preparation, ax firmly grasped in both hands.

"Ready?" Klark asks her companion.

"No, but let's do this," Raven responds as they unsheathe their two swords.

From her spot, Lexa can see that the weapons are well worn with regular use, the _prisa_ 's weapons even more so. For their sake, she hopes it'll hold the impending confrontation. Without a single word or sign, the two girls fall into step beside each other. They move as one to the cave. Right at the entrance, she seems them both freeze for a second before Klark takes one of the knives and with surprising deadliness, throws it without hesitation. Lexa knows that her intended target was hit as a loud roar makes the boys near her flinch.

Without hesitation, the two girls turn back, leading the massive, battle-scarred pauna out of its home.

"Fucking hell, it smells like shit," Raven yells through the loud movements of the pauna.

Klark doesn't respond and instead veers off to the right as soon as they reach the field. Raven moves to the opposite direction, successfully confusing the beast. It stops its movements as the two girls circle the pauna. In frustration, it pounds at the ground, and Lexa holds her breath.

And then, everything explodes into motion.

The pauna charges straight toward Raven, who plants her feet to the ground in response, expletives pouring out of her mouth. The girl jumps out of the way of a very large arm and fist and the pauna barely manages to catch itself before Klark, who, just a second ago, had been on the other side of the field, takes a stab at the beast's leg. It sinks into flesh and the pained roar it lets out is probably enough to deafen the girls. It takes a swipe at Klark, but she ducks low enough to avoid it and giving Raven the perfect opportunity to jump out of the way and then forward before bringing her blade down its neck.

Even from far away, Lexa can see that the slash is shallow, and it confirms her suspicion when it only turns its head to look at its opponent before forcefully yanking its leg out from Klark's blade and turning on Raven. She has barely enough time to bring her arms up to protect her head before the pauna's arm hits home.

"Raven!" Klark exclaims but doesn't take her eyes away from the beast as she distances herself away from it.

Entranced, Lexa watches as Raven heaves before hauling her body up to her feet with a pained groan. She can see that the girl's left arm is almost certainly broken as it took the brunt of the hit. It lays limp against her side. Arrows move swiftly through the wind, distracting the pauna from the injured girl and giving her time to breathe. She watches as the arrows are easily deflected. Wells shows no surprise but sends more arrows until he empties out of his quiver.

"I'm fine, Clarke!" Raven shouts.

Her declaration is met with an instant response as Wells stops his shooting and Klark charges at the beast, meeting it head-on. As she observes the way Klark moves viciously like the swords were part of her body, Lexa wonders what they were waiting for. She takes stock of the situation. Wells has an arrow notched, clearly looking for an opportunity. Murphy has yet to move from his position as his eyes track the movements of the beast. Klark and Raven are in danger of being overwhelmed by the pauna but evidently not so easily as Lexa counts the increasing gashes on the beast.

Suddenly, a pattern makes itself known to Lexa. Klark and Raven have been steadily making progress in attempting to stir the beast in a clear direction that would allow Murphy to cover the distance behind without being noticed while also giving Wells a clear shot of its face. Lexa acknowledges the soundness of the plan even as she unconsciously grips her sword handle as her knuckles turn white.

Watching Klark battle the bloodthirsty beast gave the roaring within Lexa more reason to continue its clamoring. She has had to bite the inside of her cheek in an attempt to restrain herself from joining the fight herself. She wonders what it is about this _prisa_ that inspires such emotions from her dead heart. She doesn't get an answer and before she can contemplate it further, the stalemate on the field is abruptly broken.

One of Klark's blade snaps as she takes a swing at the pauna's neck. It leaves her undefended as her other sword seems to be embedded in its back. Just as she extracts her remaining blade, the pauna recognizes its opportunity. It swings a thick arm to her ribs, and Lexa can only watch as Klark is thrown a few meters away, back hitting a nearby tree.

Unconsciously, Lexa moves to join the fight, only to be stopped by Anya.

"Don't, _Leksa_ ," Anya says, imploring her to take a breath. She points at the direction Klark was thrown to. "Look."

She gives her a deathly glare before heeding her advice. Lexa would not have been surprised if the result of the pauna's attack rendered Klark unconscious. But as she squints at the prone form of the _prisa_ , she is shocked to find that even though Klark is clearly gasping for breath, she is also scrambling to her feet. Lexa watches transfixed as the girl spits blood to the grass beside her before wiping her mouth with the hand that holds her remaining sword. It could be a figment of her imagination, but Lexa thinks she sees blue eyes flash with something that feels familiar to her.

Like nothing happened, Klark rushes to assist Raven just in time to push the other girl down and successfully pulling them both out of reaching range before helping each other up. In unison, they turn to the beast and moves in a way that reminds Lexa of warriors that have fought side by side for years. Where Klark cannot reach, Raven does it for her. Where Raven cannot attack, Klark brings her sword down with more force than before. Despite the expletives still pouring out of Raven's mouth and now Klark's, there is no hitch or hesitation in their movements.

The hunt comes to a head as Klark and Raven use their weight to tackle the beast to the ground, using their swords to pin its wrists to the ground.

"Murphy, Wells!" Klark barks, voice ringing with a command that Lexa has only ever heard come out of her own throat.

With bated breath, Lexa watches as the two boys spring into action and as Klark and Raven hold on for dear life. In the seconds it took for Murphy to reach his target and for Wells' arrow to fly, she and Anya do not dare breathe.

The sound of the ax and the arrow cutting through the air seems to echo throughout the forest as both hit true.

The pauna gurgles a nasty sound as its blood paint the grass it lies on. For a few moments, no one moves until Klark lets out a rushed breath of relief only for all of them to jump a foot in the air as the beast gives its dying growl. Klark doesn't waste time in driving her only other knife into its other eye to its hilt as Murphy takes another hack at its throat.

"Jesus, fuck," Raven sighs as she falls on her back at the same time Klark drops to the forest floor, hand still grasping the hilt of the knife in the beast's eye.

It breaks the tension in the air as Murphy lets out a startled chuckle and Wells jumps off of his position on the tree. Lexa relaxes her grip on her sword handle and gives an imperceptive sigh echoed by Anya. She turns to look at her _fos_ , answering the unspoken question with a nod. Anya drops to the ground, letting her footsteps be heard, knowing that the group's blood still runs like wildfire in their veins. Lexa stays back long enough for the general to reach her charges.

"Have you been here from the start?" She hears Klark ask.

"I have," Anya responds nonchalantly.

"A little help would have been nice, cheekbones," Raven says.

"Hush, Reyes. There is someone I'd like you all to meet."

Without another word, Lexa makes her presence known to the group. Interestingly, the reaction is instantaneous at least from the two girls. Raven pushes herself to her feet, shock plainly written on her face. Klark seemingly forgets to breathe as she rises slowly from her position on the ground.

Lexa lets her gaze rest on the leader, noting every minuscule movement. Klark's hand drops from the hilt of the knife, and she takes a step forward that makes Lexa grip her sword handle in reflex. Blue eyes follow the movement, and she freezes. In her periphery, Lexa sees Raven watch both her and Klark warily as if expecting something to happen. And as Lexa lifts her eyes to stare straight into Klark's, she understands the brunette's reaction.

Klark is gazing at her intently, as if willing, praying, _begging_ to see something that Lexa was not sure she'd find. She watches as blue eyes flicker down to her stomach before returning Lexa's gaze, a staggering breath flowing past her slightly parted lips. With a jolt, Lexa realizes that Klark is looking at her like she _knows_ her, which only served to raise her suspicion of the group. She doesn't move as she lets Klark take a breath, deciding to err on the side of caution instead of violence, given that Anya has been with this group for months. She says nothing as countless emotions pass through Klark's face. Lexa cannot hope to identify each and every expression, but the spirit of the Commander roars in the prison she made for her loud enough to deafen her.

From one moment to the next, Lexa watches as the leader before her wipes her entire body free of emotions until blue eyes no longer held the strange desperation even as it flickers from her face to her stomach every few seconds.

"Greetings. I am Heda, Commander of the Twelve Clans."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all of you who have been patient, the next chapter will hopefully meet your expectations of the reunion. Plot also picks up the pace, so don't cuss me out too much.


	5. Matters of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A summary of the past five months before Lexa's arrival to TonDC, the reunion, and half of the day after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! Yeah, no? I'm surprised too. I am running on 4 cups of coffee (I'm going to die early, yes), and I have not slept properly in the past week because I kept dreaming of the reunion. I didn't want y'all to wait too long, so here it is. This chapter is purely Clexa with hints of the plot. The story resumes in the next chapter. 
> 
> Also, just to make sure it's clear: Clarke & co. arrived on Earth a full year before they did in the original timeline.
> 
> I swear on my life that I didn't rush this. It just... kinda came out so I hope it turns out well.

There were countless times over the past few months when Clarke regretted asking Anya to train her.

During the first month, Clarke found it hard to move any part of her body. Her muscles were constantly sore, and she sported bruises that she might've thought to be permanent if it weren't for her medical training. Her parents had worried about her constantly. Her mother had taken to asking her once every other conversation if it was necessary for her train. Each and every time, she would say yes, eyes turned skyward, looking for patience where it can't be found. Her father would dote as much as the screen and the radio would allow, and he had been her rock when she thought her body couldn't take any more.

Jaha had been a thorn in her side until Anya came with the news that the Commander will not be able to entertain them until after six months. When she had asked the general about Costia, the pained look on her features answered all of her questions. She knew then that Lexa cannot abandon Polis because the Coalition was still in its early stages. Sometimes, Clarke often forgot that they were on the ground a full year before the 100 was to be sent down in the original timeline. She didn't know whether to be relieved or pained that she would have to wait for six months to pass by before she can assure herself that Lexa is alive. As a result, she had been admittedly snappish at Jaha as she tried to explain that no, it wasn't a power play and that no, they didn't have any right to demand anything because it is the grounders' home and they are the invaders.

The second month was when things started to look up for the group. First, Wells, Murphy, and Raven decided to join the insane training that Clarke was subjected to, apparently deciding that learning how to fight with weapons that don't run out of ammo is far more beneficial than relying on their guns. Of course, the realization was triggered by a huge, carnivorous stag that attacked the camp late in the night. If it weren't for her training, Wanheda's constant coaching, and Anya's sheer skill, they all would have died that night. As it happens, Clarke walked away with a dislocated shoulder, Wells came out with a bite that nearly took his entire arm off, Murphy sported a concussion for a week, and Raven sustained multiple broken ribs.

As soon as Murphy and Raven recovered, they approached Clarke and Anya while they were in the midst of light training (she thinks of this with a grain of salt considering Anya's version of light training involves being shot at with relentless arrows). They had asked to join the training. Anya had given them the same sinister smirk that Clarke received on the first night they spent training, and she instinctively knew that her friends will be put through a much harsher regimen considering they were a month behind.

So, while she practiced the sword, Anya placed her friends on a rigorous routine that was meant to strengthen their bodies to Clarke's level.

Just when she thought she could get out of the ordeal unscathed, Anya had unceremoniously dropped an impossible task on her.

"Lift her up," the general gestures to Raven.

"What?" They say in unison.

"You heard me, _Skaiprisa_. Do not make me repeat myself."

Clarke had turned to Raven helplessly, and she suspects that if it had not been for the fact that Raven knew she would go through the same thing, the mechanic would have laughed at her expression. As it is, they had no choice. Once Raven gave her nod, Clarke moved to carry her bridal style.

She managed to stay on her feet for a grand total of five seconds before they both toppled over.

"Fuck, Griffin! Are you trying to tell me I'm fat?" Raven exclaims as she rubs her ass.

Clarke had profusely apologized as the boys snickered behind her.

"All of you will be doing what your leader has so gracefully failed to do. Klark, you and Raven will lift each other. And once you have managed to complete 150 squats, you will move to Wells, then to Murphy, then finally, to me," she gives the boys a pointed glare which promptly shuts them up. "The same goes for you two. Lift them," she gestures to her and Raven, "and then lift each other and then me. I don't need to tell you the consequences of dropping me?"

They shake their heads in unison, too horrified to put a stop to the general's plan.

"Good. Klark, you will spar with me every afternoon. The rest of you will go through the drills."

And so it went up until the third month. They couldn't feel their arms and their legs for the first two weeks, and just when they were starting to get used to whoever they were lifting, they would move on to the next. Clarke has suffered the most considering her sparring with Anya mostly consisted of being beaten down to the ground and then up again.

For the most part, Clarke was thankful. She had not dreamed since she started training with Anya as Wanheda seemed to know that Clarke was too exhausted to deal with her scars. The god protected her and shielded her from her nightmares for as long as possible. It also helped that seeing how Murphy took to the ax, Raven to the swords, and Wells to a bow like ducklings to the water soothed the part of Clarke that was always worried about her friends.

Clarke found out that she was proficient with the sword and knives but was absolutely useless with the bow. Despite her disgruntlement at the fact, she took comfort in the fact that Wanheda herself preferred the weapons that Clarke learned without much trouble. She was a long way from besting Anya in a bout, but with the general's instruction and Wanheda's constant coaching, she knew that it was only a matter of time before she could stand toe-to-toe with Anya.

Of course, as Clarke's luck would have it, all good things come to an end.

The peace she had begun to enjoy shattered on one afternoon in the middle of the third month when she heard the familiar sound of horns from TonDC that signaled _ripas_. There had been no reported incidents in the past three months as Anya's team conducted regular patrol around the perimeter of the village. So, to hear the horns in the distance, Clarke's heart jumped in her throat. She and Anya reacted to it faster than anyone else in the group. They hastily picked up their weapons from where they had been on the ground beside them as they ate lunch. Her friends took a second to catch up, but when they did, they hastened to do the same.

Foregoing the unsaddled horse, they ran in unison to TonDC. It took them ten minutes to get there. As they approached the gate, Clarke hurriedly assessed the situation, spotting more than a dozen _ripas_ approaching TonDC across its gates.

"You will stick with me," Anya had ordered. "We will intercept the _ripas_. Our mission is to kill them all before they reach TonDC. My warriors will join the fight. Try not to die, _Skaikru_."

They nodded without a second thought, knowing better than to question Anya.

It was bloodshed.

She and her friends had only just mastered the basics of their chosen weapons but it was enough to make a significant difference. Clarke, with Wanheda's constant stream of instructions and her own instincts from a war that has yet to happen in this timeline, brought death upon six _ripas_ by herself. When she regrouped with Raven in the midst of the chaos, they brought down another five. Murphy was doing well enough with Wells as they stuck close to Anya, and when the general's warriors joined the fray, the last of the _ripas_ were quickly and efficiently killed.

In the aftermath, Clarke has stared at the blood-stained ground, lifting up her shaking hands and watched as the blood dripped to the forest floor. She did not remember hesitating in the thick of the battle, but as she continues to stare at the carnage before her, she could feel the strength she had built up in the past few months crumble. She had been startled out of her haze when a sob came from beside her. She remembers lifting her head and seeing the same kind of devastation on Raven's face. Tears were already running down the mechanic's cheeks, hands as blood-soaked as Clarke's.

She did not hesitate to wrap her arms around her friend, only realizing that she was responsible for half of the sobs when Raven squeezed her waist. She remembers being glad that they were far enough from TonDC to be afforded some privacy. Anya had found them soon after, apparently leaving the boys with Nyko to treat their injuries. She had taken one look at Clarke's face, and she softened to a degree that she has never seen before on the warrior. Anya stepped towards them and placed a hand on both of their heads.

"You did well," the general had whispered. "Pull yourselves together. Remember that for each _ripa_ you killed, a soul is set free."

Her words had triggered another onslaught of sobs, and it was another few moments before she and Raven managed to breathe long enough to stem the tears. Anya offered no other words of comfort, but Clarke had been thankful for her steady presence behind them as she and Raven moved side-by-side to TonDC. Indra met them at the gates, and while the village chief did stare at them in suspicion, she had still offered her arm to them. She offered them a place to stay in TonDC in compensation for their efforts. Clarke had barely managed to express her appreciation.

Perhaps it was the _ripas_. Or perhaps it was the pyre for the ripas. Or perhaps it was the fact that she was now residing in a village where much of the horrors they faced in the original timeline happened. Whatever it was, it gave Clarke and Raven no reprieve. Clarke had woken up first in the throes of a dream, no, _a memory_ of the previous vessels' first kill. She can still hear the gunshot, the begging of a mother, and the sobs of a disgraced warrior. A few seconds later, Raven had woken up choking and crying, and together, they stumbled out of the tent and fell to their knees, horrified and terrified out of their wits. Unsurprisingly, Anya had heard the commotion from her tent beside theirs, and she came out to see the two of them gasping and heaving.

The general wasted no time in grabbing them by the arm and hauling them up to their feet and leading them to the village center, which was thankfully deserted. It took a few minutes before she and Raven calmed down enough to meet Anya's hard eyes.

"Would you like to get kill marks?" The general had asked. "It symbolizes more than death. As each mark heals so does the guilt. And once the marks stop burning, we bear it on our backs to remind ourselves of every life we have taken. It is a reminder of the cost it took for each mark, the circumstances that led to it, and what we have learned in the encounter."

Clarke and Raven had looked at each other, neither saying anything until Wells and Murphy shuffled behind them. She studied their unsurprised faces and the bags under their eyes. They had looked like they never slept, and they probably didn't. She had turned to Anya and nodded her head.

"Save me for last. But mark me for every death I have caused in the life I lived and in the one I have now," Clarke had said steadily. If Anya was surprised, she didn't show it.

No one stopped her and Wanheda was silent in her head. She had been grateful.

Anya unsheathed a blade and gestured for Murphy and Wells to go first. She made two kill marks each, using the sharp edge to make it as thin as possible. Raven went up next, and Clarke knew that she would not be getting her turn for another few days.

"How many?" Anya had asked.

"How many died on the bridge in the original timeline?" Raven responded.

"16."

"Then, 16 for the bridge explosion, 307 for those we burned alive, plus eight more, then the two _ripas_ I killed by myself, and the five Clarke and I killed," Raven had whispered, ashamed. Clarke resisted the urge to provide comfort, knowing it would not have helped. "338."

Anya nodded. Throughout the ordeal, Raven never made a sound aside from her hitching breaths. She let silent tears fall, but she did not sob. Clarke had moved to hold her hand by number 54 and the mechanic allowed the contact. For the next couple of days, they gathered in Anya's tent, silently watching Raven receive her kill marks. Clarke did her best to keep the wounds clean as they healed, thankful that Anya cared enough to make them as thin as possible to fit at least 30 in each row. By the end of it, Raven walked away with 11 rows of kill marks that covered half her back.

"How many?" Anya asked her steadily once it was her turn.

Clarke watched the redness of the blade before removing her shirt and her bindings, uncaring of her nudity even as she can hear Murphy and Wells move outside the tent in the same way they did when Raven had to remove her own. She moved to lay flat on her chest, grasping Raven's cold hand in hers.

"921 in the previous timeline, six _ripas_ I killed by myself, and the five I killed with Raven," she had answered hoarsely, emotion blocking her voice. "932."

She had closed her eyes the moment she answered, but she could hear Murphy's whispered "fuck" from outside the tent and Raven's subtle gulp.

The process took a full week, and through it all, she swallowed the pain and continued to train. In the morning, she and Anya would cycle through the drills for the sword and the knife. After lunch, she could often be found sparring with the general and her friends. When sundown came, she was always flat on her chest and quiet as she received her kill marks. Wells and Murphy would always be outside, talking about everything and nothing all at once. Raven had remained steadfast and unwavering beside Clarke. When the silence got too suffocating for all three, Anya would start Trigedasleng lessons. Some words came naturally to Clarke like _shof op_ and _gona_ and, when she's alone and lost in memories of green eyes, _ai hod yu in._ By the time the process finished, Clarke walked away from Anya's tent with kill marks covering her entire back and her left rib.

It took two weeks for her to heal, and by then, they were in the midst of the fourth month. Jaha had begun to ask what she plans to do with the grounders, and it was then that they hatched a plan.

In six months' time, after she has met with the Commander, 100 kids from Prison Station will be sent to the ground.

It was a compromise.

In exchange for heeding the Griffin family's begging to abort the Culling of the 300, the kids will be sent down to Earth first. Once they have successfully integrated with the grounders, the rest of the Ark will come down. It was not the perfect solution, but Clarke would do anything to get Jaha off her back. She would do anything to save her people. When her marks sting with phantom pain, she thinks of Bellamy and Octavia, Jasper and Monty, Harper and Monroe. When death weighs heavily in the pit of her stomach, she thinks of Charlotte and Finn and second chances. When she feels like there might be hope, she thinks of the tower in Polis, the warmth of a barely used bed, and Lexa, Lexa, _Lexa_.

TonDC was attacked once again by the end of the fourth month, this time by a pauna. She had been in the midst of sparring with her friends when the signal came, and they had rushed to see what the commotion was about. They were greeted by the sight of the village's _sekens_ scrambling to get away from the beast. She and her friends did not hesitate. They battled the pauna long enough to let the kids run before escaping themselves. They weren't armed or prepared; it would have been unwise to continue trying to subdue the beast. Murphy barely escaped with his head attached on his shoulders after failing to follow Clarke's sudden "duck!"

In the aftermath of it, the pauna retreated and Clarke was summoned to Nyko's tent. Together, they fought tooth and nail to keep the boy alive. He had been hit in the ribs and it punctured his lungs. Clarke knew that they didn't have the equipment, but she did not let it stop her. It was a miracle that the boy lived, and his parent expressed their utmost gratitude to Clarke. They began to call her _prisa_ and before long, the entirety of TonDC recognized her wherever she went. Nyko took her under his wing and taught her everything he knew whenever Anya was too busy to beat her and her friends. Wells joined the healer training not long after, saying that with Clarke's luck, they'll probably need another healer in the group in case she falls. Clarke didn't try to stop him but he did receive a hard punch to his stomach.

Hunting the pauna was always going to be the plan. Raven cursed her, Murphy complained, and Wells begged, but she told them that the longer it was out there, the higher the possibility that it could actually kill somebody. Anya had only rolled her eyes and told them to consider it a test of their progress in training. Of course, it turned out to be a much harder task to accomplish. Wanheda did the best she could to keep her and Raven alive, but by the end of it, she suffered multiple cracked, if not broken, ribs and she could see Raven's broken arm. She wasn't surprised when Anya walked out into the open.

"Have you been here from the start?" Clarke mutters through her aching ribs. Anya gave her an innocent look.

"I have."

"A little help would have been nice, cheekbones," Raven gasps somewhere to her right.

"Hush, _branwoda_ ," Anya says. "There is someone I'd like you to meet."

Clarke's world grinds to an abrupt halt.

Her lips part in shock, heart dropping to her stomach. Ignoring her injuries, she rises slowly to her feet, unable to comprehend, to believe that Lexa is standing before her real and solid and _alive_.

 _Hello, my love,_ Wanheda coos in her head.

Clarke _cannot breathe_.

She scours the Commander's face for any hint of recognition, of the Lexa she knew, of the woman she held in her arms. She stares at the steady rise and fall of her chest, a sob trapped somewhere between her heart and her throat. She looks up to find curious but guarded green eyes that looked so much like Clarke remembers them at the same time that they do not resemble anything she knows. She sucks in a ragged breath and takes a step forward.

She wants to say so many things like _it's me_ , like _I have loved you for so long_ , like _are you real?_ She looks at the Commander's stomach, expecting to see black blood but finding nothing but leather and armor. She wants to reach out and _touch_ Lexa. She wants to swipe a hand across her stomach, wants to rest her fingers around her wrist, wants to feel the steady pulse that promises _I'm here_ and _I'm alive_ and _I love you_.

At the sight of a white-knuckled grip, Clarke crashes down and freezes.

She meets cautious green eyes and everything in her _burns_. Lexa isn't looking at her like they've survived wars and betrayals together. Lexa looks nothing like the woman who kissed her in a war tent, who loved in her Polis, even the one who left her at the Mountain. And Clarke knew – _she knew_ – that this Lexa won't have the memories that made Clarke who she is, but still, nothing could have prepared her for the hollow ache where her heart was a few seconds ago, the absolute tearing in her soul and the sheer weight of looking at someone who's so close yet _so fucking far_.

 _She doesn't remember me_ , Clarke despairs at the same time Wanheda whispers a small and broken _she cannot hear me_.

Before she could ask the god what she meant, Clarke feels her retreat deep into her mind, leaving her alone with the burning behind her eyes, the tears that cannot fall, the heartbreak that she cannot show. Clarke swallows the memory of warm, trembling lips and gentle, calloused hands. She clenches her jaw against the memory of unseeing green eyes, black blood, and _you were right, Clarke, life is about more than just surviving_. She mercilessly pushes down the relentless _are you really here_ and _I love you, I love you, I love you_. She makes a fist and digs her nails into her flesh, hoping that the warmth of her trickling blood will help her stop the urge to reach out and wrap her arms around Lexa.

"Greetings," Clarke closes her eyes and bites the inside of her cheek to stop another sob, "I am Heda, Commander of the Twelve Clans."

Even as she feels like she's unraveling around the edges, Clarke tries to focus.

She lists the names of her people, tries to remember what she came down to Earth for, and hides everything she feels behind a fragile mask. She finds herself missing the steadiness that is Wanheda and feels a flash of anger at the memory of what it felt like for the god to retreat from her mind and into a place Clarke cannot reach. She latches on to that anger and the pain from her ribs and uses it to ground herself back into the present. She forces the kind of calm that she doesn't have and opens her dry mouth to respond.

"Greetings, Heda," the words scrape against her throat, " _ai laik Klark kom Skaikru_. It is an honor to meet you."

Slowly, she kneels trying not to think about _I swear fealty to you, Klark kom Skaikru_. Instead, she focuses on how her friends drop to one knee as soon as she does. She fixes her gaze on the ground, knowing that looking at Lexa will threaten the fragile and trembling calm she had achieved. She breathes a shaky breath as familiar black boots enter her line of sight. She can only hope that the Commander did not hear the cracks in her façade.

"You are the leader of your people?"

 _I vow to treat your needs as my own and your people as my people_.

She swallows, futilely trying to push past the lump in her throat. " _Sha_ , Heda."

Lexa extends a hand to her, and it takes everything in Clarke to keep the false calm as she reaches to take it. The Commander pulls her up to her feet, and she hopes that her hand does not tremble where it touches Lexa's. Against her better judgment, she looks at the woman before her with a steadiness she doesn't possess. She feels blood gush into her mouth as Lexa moves her hand to her forearm. She does the same.

"Thank you for hunting down the pauna," Lexa says, regal and detached, before letting go. Clarke grits her teeth against the urge to _clasp_ and _hold_. "We will talk about your people shortly. For now, prepare for a feast. TonDC will want to celebrate the death of the beast that has taken many of its villagers' lives."

Clarke can only nod.

"Let Nyko treat your wounds. Anya, you will help bring the pauna. Klark," she shivers at the onslaught of memories triggered by the sound of her own name rolling off of Lexa's tongue, "walk with me."

Without another word, Lexa turns and begins the walk back to TonDC. For a moment, Clarke does nothing but watch as Lexa walks away before Raven touches her wrist and gives it a squeeze long enough to ground her back into the present.

Like always, Clarke hurries to catch up.

"Tell me about your people," Lexa orders as soon as Clarke falls into step beside her.

"We have more than 2,000 people, Heda. We are led by a single person known as the Chancellor," Clarke says, still struggling to keep breathing as steadily as possible. "I am not our Chancellor. I am merely a representative of my people. When the bombs hit, we escaped to space, and we have been surviving to the best of our abilities up there for almost a hundred years."

"What changed? Why the sudden interest in our home?" Clarke tries not to hear the miles in between her and Lexa when the Commander says "our."

"The Ark, the vessel we lived in, cannot sustain life for long. We estimate two years before the systems helping our people breathe fail. It will kill us; it’s a slow and painful death."

Lexa nods and motions for her to continue.

"We were sent to see if Earth is livable and to see if anyone survived the bombs. My mission is to provide answers to the questions they cannot answer with the technology we have."

"And what is your goal now?"

Clarke swallows. "Peace."

Lexa turns to look at her like she hears how Clarke has struggled to attain peace. Clarke studiously keeps her eyes forward, knowing that she can only do so much to hold herself together in Lexa's presence. Her heart pounds painfully in her chest, bringing with it a throbbing that reminds her of her broken ribs. Unintentionally, she grimaces.

"You are hurt," Lexa states and Clarke scours her statement for any hint of care. She does not find any. It hurts far more than broken bones ever could. "How badly are you hurt?"

"A few broken ribs. It's nothing I can't handle. It's easier than fighting the pauna." _Easier than stopping myself from holding you_ is what she doesn't say.

From the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees a ghost of a smile before it disappeared as fast as it came.

"Anya tells me you are a healer."

Clarke nods. "I am. My mother is a healer up on the Ark. She wanted me to be the same. She taught me everything I know about healing." _And grief_ , she leaves unsaid. "I have been training with Nyko when I have time."

She can see the gates of TonDC, and Clarke doesn't know if she's relieved or saddened. Lexa says nothing more as they approach the village. Clarke suspects it might have something to do with the fact that there are people lining up to greet their Heda. She focuses on the faces she recognizes and tries her damnedest not to think of anything more. Shouts of "Heda!" fill her ears but before she can spiral, a small body crashes against hers. Taken by surprise, she stumbles back a step only for Lexa to press a hand against her back to steady her.

Like everything, the touch _burns_. Lexa's hand is warm and _alive_ and Clarke barely has enough strength to hold back a sob _and_ shoot the Commander a grateful look. Lexa nods, and just like that, the hand falls away, taking Clarke's heart with it.

" _Prisa!_ " The boy in her arms shouts excitedly. It's the same boy that Clarke fought to keep alive after he was attacked by the pauna they hunted.

Ignoring her protesting ribs, Clarke crouches down.

" _Heya_ , Angus," she says softly. The boy wraps his arms around her neck and Clarke chuckles and embraces him until he pulls away. "I have something to show you."

She takes his hand and looks up to find Lexa already staring at her with an expression that she doesn't recognize. Before she can ask for permission, Lexa is already nodding, seeming to know what Clarke wanted to ask her. It makes the hollow ache in her chest all the more persistent.

Ripping her gaze away from green eyes, she leads Angus back to the group. He yelps and hides behind her as soon as he sees the dead pauna being hauled by Wells and Murphy while Raven and Anya walk in front.

"Come on, _goufa_. Look," Clarke urges him. The boy hesitantly follows her instructions, eyes widening before turning his awed gaze onto her.

" _Pauna nou mou_?"

Clarke smiles and nods. " _Nou mou_. I promised, didn't I?"

Angus breaks into a wide smile before jumping at Clarke, who barely manages to catch him and bite back a pained groan at the blinding reminder of her broken ribs. Forcing a laugh, she carries him back to the front of the line, trying not to wince at every movement, knowing that Angus wouldn't want to be put down anytime soon.

"TonDC!" Lexa declares as soon as Clarke reaches her goal. The Commander gives a cursory glance at the boy in her arms that Clarke pretends she doesn't see. " _Skaikru_ has honored us with their hunt. The pauna is dead, and tonight, we celebrate their success and bravery. Tonight, we feast!"

Immediately, the crowd cheers and Clarke finds herself in awe of the villagers who were usually stoic and distant. They break apart in groups. A few warriors come up to clasp Clarke's arm before moving on to her friends and promptly taking the dead pauna. Clarke can hear Raven's sigh of relief despite being ten feet away from the brunette. Anya moves to direct the warriors back into the village. As soon as they are relieved of their burden, her friends move to Clarke's side.

"Hi, Angus," Raven greets before shooting a worried look at Clarke. She waves her concern away.

" _Reyon!_ " Angus exclaims, still unable to say Raven's name. " _Pauna nou mou!_ "

Raven nods, her broken arm hanging limply by her side. "You promised to say my name right if we kill the pauna, Angus. Say it with me. Rey-ven."

"Reee-yon."

"Reeey-ven."

"Reeey-en."

Raven laughs. "We'll work on it," she says before turning to look at something on Clarke's right. "Heda," she greets, standing straighter.

Lexa only nods before turning to Angus. She comes close enough for Clarke to stop breathing, arms tightening around Angus. The Commander says something in rapid Trigedasleng and gesturing to Raven's arm and her torso. Clarke wishes she had time to learn the language properly, but as it is, she can only watch as whatever Lexa said made Angus alarmed. He scrambles down from her hold and she almost keels over as she bends to let him down if it weren't for the familiar touch that wraps around her elbow. Clarke stiffens even as she straightens, knowing without looking that Lexa is steadying her. This time, she doesn't let go, and Clarke thinks she might cry.

" _Moba, prisa_ ," Angus mumbles.

Clarke gives him what she hopes is a smile.

"It's okay, Angus."

She doesn't get to say anymore as Angus' parents come to collect him. The father, a clean-shaven but burly man, comes forward. He nods at Lexa before he clasps Clarke's arm in thanks, doing the same with Raven's good arm as well as Wells' and Murphy's. The mother smiles at them before leading Angus away, which Clarke is thankful for because she can feel blood come out of her mouth and that's the last thing she wants the boy to see.

"Come," Lexa says. "I will escort you all to Nyko."

Lexa hasn't let her go, and Clarke, with her broken heart and weary soul, can do nothing but follow.

\--------------------

Lexa doesn't understand the _Skaikru_ leader. She had expected them to act differently considering they were born and raised in another culture, but after spending months on the ground, she had expected them to act in a way that she can at least recognize. The little things like how they knelt or how they avoided her gaze or how they moved in constant formation didn't matter. It was the things that were glaringly obvious that caught Lexa's attention.

Klark had acted strangely for long moments after she announced her presence. She could easily read desperation written across her face, but she doesn't know what she had been so desperate to see. She identified grief among the many emotions that flashed in blue eyes, but she doesn't know what or even who she was mourning. When the _Skaikru_ leader seemed to have caught up to her thoughts after minutes of suffocating silence, she had watched as everything raw about the blonde was pulled back and hidden underneath a mask. She had watched as Klark became something entirely different but still fragile. She knows this when she said 'peace' like it was hope and despair wrapped in one, when Klark refused to look at her, when she stiffened after Lexa pointed out that she was hurt.

One moment she was bursting with emotion and the next, Klark was nothing but a perfect warrior.

When a _goufa_ from TonDC rushed to greet Klark and Lexa had instinctively reached out to stop her fall, Klark had turned into stone as much as she seemed to melt. The mask lifted for the boy in the _Skaikru_ leader's arms, and Lexa watched, entranced, as she smiled easily despite the pain that she must be feeling.

Lexa can admit that she was… _concerned_ when Klark came back to the front of their procession with the little boy on her hip. She was not a stranger to broken bones, and if Klark is feeling what Lexa suspects she's feeling, then she must be in blinding pain. And yet, Klark laughed and encouraged the boy as the girl, Raven, she thinks she is called, tried to teach him how to say her name. Briefly, she had wondered how long Klark was willing to take the pain for the _goufa_. But when Raven looked at her like she was pleading, Lexa internally sighed and approached Angus.

It seems that the _Skaikru_ leader is stubborn enough for one of her friends to ask her for help. She adds this to the list of things she now knows about Klark.

She stepped close to the boy, distantly noting Klark's subsequent stiffening. Gently, she explains to the boy that his _prisa_ is hurt and that being carried is making it worse for her. She had wanted him to calmly let Klark go but at her explanation, Angus was alarmed and hurriedly scrambled down, successfully kneeing right where Lexa knows it hurts.

Klark sucks in a pained breath, and for a moment, Lexa thinks she might fall.

Again, she catches Klark's elbow reflexively, gripping her enough to stop her forward momentum. This time, Lexa feels her tremble but she doesn't know if it's because of the pain or something else entirely. On a whim, she decides to leave her hand wrapped around Klark's elbow and see what happens. Unfortunately, the contact inspires befuddlement as the Spirit of the Commander abruptly stopped her roaring. Lexa can almost feel the way Heda gently touches the prison bars she placed.

 _Be one with me again, Leksa_ , Heda whispers. _Why do you shun me?_

 _Because you are weakness,_ Lexa spat before blocking out the spirit once again despite the phantom pain that lanced through her chest at Heda's words. Before directing her focus back to the world around her, Lexa thinks she hears Heda whimper _so close, yet so far._

"Come," she says out loud instead. "I will escort you all to Nyko."

Unbidden, she keeps her thoughts trained on Klark. She wonders what invisible weight she is carrying as she becomes pliant under her hand, letting – _trusting_ – Lexa to lead the way. It stands so starkly with the barrage of emotions that Klark showed earlier that Lexa cannot help the curiosity that runs through her veins. As she lifts the flap of the healing tent, she lets Klark go. If it weren't for her training, she might have missed the soft sigh that Klark gave at the loss of contact. She doesn't turn, knowing that she wasn't meant to hear.

"Nyko."

"Heda," the healer greets with a respectful nod before turning his attention on the group behind her. "What have you done this time, _prisa_?"

The exasperated fondness makes Lexa turn to look at Klark and her friends. The _Skaikru_ leader is sheepish as the two boys behind Raven snicker. Lexa finds nothing of the Klark who told her a little bit of where she lived. Seeing her like this, Lexa, for the first time, notices how young the leader is.

Nyko sighs, pulling Lexa out of her thoughts. "Was the hunt successful at least?"

"It was," Klark rasps. "We'll be having it later for dinner."

"Well, come on then. There is no use leaving you in pain longer than you should be."

Lexa moves out of the way as the two girls enter fully into the tent. Content to watch from the sidelines, Lexa stays where she is, noting how Murphy and Wells stayed outside but did not move from their posts in front of the entrance. Raven sits on the cot, catching Lexa's attention. Again, Klark does not move the way she expects her to as she takes the bandages Nyko offered. She wonders why Nyko did not treat Klark first. After all, she is the leader of her people.

Instead, Klark wraps Raven's arm carefully, moving gently enough for even Lexa to notice.

"It's a clean break, Rae. But no training or heavy lifting for this arm until it heals. Okay?"

"Yeah, don't worry, I can't even think about training right now. All I want is to go back to the tent and sleep for a million years. That's the last time we're hunting a pauna."

Klark hums noncommittally.

"Clarke. You know there's only so many times you can break your ribs, right?" Raven asks, apparently concerned at the _Skaikru_ leader's lack of response.

"Who's the healer again?"

Raven rolls her eyes so hard, Lexa almost worries it might get stuck that way. Before she can get a response out, Nyko is there, offering Raven a cup of tea that Lexa knows to be laced with medicine.

"Do I have to?" Raven whines and Lexa struggles to reconcile the girl who attacked a pauna and pinned one of its wrists to the girl on the cot.

"Yes. Drink."

Raven grimaces in disgust but accepts the cup nonetheless. Slowly, as if she's holding something poisonous, she lifts it to her face only to blanch.

"The longer you smell it, the more unpleasant it will be. Drink," Nyko tells her.

Raven glares at him as she drinks the cup dry and as she hands it back forcefully.

"That is literally the worst thing about being injured here on the ground."

"Not the broken bones?" Klark teases, a grin stretching the side of her lips that Lexa can see.

"Definitely not. At least the bones heal in a few weeks. My tongue's still burning with the taste of my last cup of whatever that shit is from two months ago."

Klark huffs out a laugh as she ties the sling around Raven's neck. "There, you're good. Go ahead. I'll catch up after Nyko tortures me."

Lexa is surprised when Nyko laughs. She doesn't think she has ever seen the healer do that before.

"I would not have to _torture_ you if you stopped getting injured, _prisa_. You are worse than _Onya_."

"Yeah, yeah," Klark says, waving a hand. "Go, Raven. Unless you want to be here for his lecture."

"Yeah, no, bye."

Raven jumps off of the cot and moves to go outside, giving her a quick nod that Lexa returns. One of the boys, Murphy, she thinks, follows Raven as she moves away from the tent.

"Are you satisfied? May I heal you now?" Nyko asks Klark.

"Why did you not heal her first?" Lexa interjects.

Klark starts removing her armor piece by piece, not at all surprised to hear her.

"Because she is a stubborn one, Heda. She would not let me heal her unless she addresses her friends' injuries first. I have simply learned to hold my tongue because there is no use speaking to a mule," Nyko responds, directing his last statement at Klark. She only shrugs, back still turned to Lexa.

Klark continues to remove her clothing until she is left in nothing but the shirt underneath her leather jacket. Dutifully, she lies down on the cot without prompting, still refusing to meet Lexa's eyes. Nyko moves to the _prisa_ 's side and lifts her shirt, only stopping once the bottom of her bindings peeks. Lexa shifts her gaze from Klark's face to her torso. She can see a myriad of color's on the pale skin, blue and purple and red creating a canvas of color. She narrows her eyes as she catches sight of clean, thin scars on Klark's left side. She cannot see clearly from her position but if she can count three rows of lines.

"Are those kill marks?"

Klark shifts closer to Nyko and farther from Lexa in response. Strange because warriors often brag about their marks. Surely, if Klark knew enough about their culture to get her own kill marks, she would know what they mean, why warriors take pride in their scars.

"Yes," Klark says quietly.

When no explanation seems forthcoming, Lexa steps closer to the girl. Her actions lure blue eyes even as Nyko prods at her ribs.

"Explain," the word sounds harsh and urgent even to Lexa's ears.

Klark only looks at her steadily. "It was a lifetime ago."

Sensing the tense atmosphere, Nyko interjects by clearing his throat, wincing at the glare Lexa sends his way. For a moment, she contemplates pushing the topic further, suspicions forming in the pit of her stomach. But then she remembers Angus and, up until now, Nyko. She remembers the villagers' blatant, if not confusing, respect for the _prisa_ , the slightest hint of fondness in Anya's tone. She swallows her questions, deciding that just this once, she will let it go.

"You have two broken ribs, one on each side. The rest are cracked," Nyko shares his diagnosis. "You managed to leave a few unharmed; I'm impressed."

"With the way it hurts, I wouldn't have been surprised if it went through my skin _and_ my lungs," Klark responds easily.

Nyko scoffs. "Do not make that a goal, Klark. Or I won't treat you at all."

"Better talk to Anya, then."

"Oh, I will," Nyko says before helping her up to a sitting position.

Lexa cannot see her back from this angle, but she reminds herself that that won't be the case for long. If Klark has more kill marks on her back, then there is cause for concern. She knows next to nothing about this woman, and she does not like the mysteries that shroud her. Klark glances at her, presumably worried that she will use her authority to force her to turn.

"I have questions, _Klark kom Skaikru_. One of them being how someone who fell from the sky only a few months ago and who hails from a people that did not know we exist can have so many kill marks. I will let you have your secrets for now. Consider this your reward for hunting down the pauna," Lexa takes a step forward. Klark does not flinch like so many others do. "But remember this: my patience will only last for so long before it snaps and you will be forced to answer my questions. I suggest not waiting."

Blue eyes meet hers unwaveringly, and for the first time, Lexa sees a leader she can learn to respect.

" _Sha,_ Heda," Klark says, tone and face void of emotion, but if nothing else, Lexa can hear a challenge when it is issued.

The question now is: who will break first?

It is a question for another day.

For now, Lexa takes a step back but refuses to leave the tent. She watches as Nyko wraps bandages upon bandages around Klark's bruised torso, hiding the kill marks as he goes. She wonders if it is intentional. If so, then Nyko may know something about Klark. And this posits another problem because if Nyko knows then Anya should know and yet, her _fos_ has said nothing about the matter. She does not think Anya would betray her, but it is Nyko she isn't so sure about. His familiarity and apparent bond with the group meant that he has spent time with them, especially with Klark. If it so happens that her patience snaps first before the walls protecting Klark's secrets do, then she reminds herself to _ask_ Nyko first.

"Because I know I will not be able to stop you from training," Nyko says as soon as he finishes bandaging Klark's ribs, "at the very least, do not lift anything or _anyone_ for that matter. I will talk to Anya. Raven is right, _prisa_ , there's only so many times you can break your ribs."

Klark nods as she pulls her shirt down. "I will _try_ , Nyko. _Mochof_."

Nyko pinches the bridge of his nose. "Go on, then. _Try_ not to be my patient for the next month or so."

She does not say anything in response. She only moves to pick up the leather jacket before slowly wrapping it around her shoulders. She picks up each piece of her armor and lays it methodically on Nyko's table. Without being asked, she takes the cup filled with the same liquid Nyko gave to Raven and drinks it to the last drop. When she is finally done, she turns to Lexa with a carefully empty expression.

"Shall we go, Heda?"

Lexa nods and turns to move outside the tent, only to be greeted by the horn of the village blasting the signal for _ripas_. She vaguely feels Klark stiffen behind her, too focused on Anya who is marching towards her.

"Heda, _ripas_ were spotted around the village. We are surrounded."

"How long has it been since the last attack?"

"Almost two months," Anya answers immediately even as Gustus and Indra hurry to her side.

"Were they able to take anyone?"

"No."

"They're desperate," Klark voices out Lexa's thoughts. Her head whips around to the _Skaikru_ leader. Sometime during the short conversation with Anya, Klark managed to get her remaining knife back in its holster on her thigh and one of her swords clutched in her hand. "They haven't been able to take anyone in months thanks to the general's warriors. They're desperate," she repeats.

"And who are you?" Gustus demands.

" _Em pleni_ , Gustus. This is _Klark kom Skaikru_ , leader of her people," she says.

"Heda-"

"I will vouch for her and her group," Anya interjects, clearly impatient. "Should they betray you, I will accept my sentence."

There's a few precious seconds of silence as she processes the level of trust that Anya places on Klark and her friends.

"Very well," she nods just before Raven and Murphy reach them.

"Clarke!" Raven calls.

Klark shifts and turns her body toward the newcomers.

"Tell us what to do, Clarke," Wells says from behind Lexa.

"Raven, Wells, you go with Anya. Murphy, you're with me. Heda, may we accompany you and your warriors?"

Gustus scoffs, and Lexa chooses to ignore it. "Can you fight in your condition?"

"We can," Klark promises without hesitation.

Lexa nods, unwilling to spend more time questioning the matter.

"Anya, take your warriors and deal with the _ripas_ south of TonDC. Indra, stay in here and protect the village the best you can. Gustus, you are with me and _Skaikru_."

The group hurries to follow the orders but not before Klark grabs Raven and Wells' shoulders.

"Don't die," she hears the _prisa_ order.

"Don't you worry about us, Princess. We'll see you at the feast," Raven answers with a smirk.

"May we meet again, Clarke," Wells adds before running to catch up with Anya.

When Klark turns back to their group, there is no sign of emotion. All Lexa can see is a warrior, and if she didn't know any better, she would say that Klark looks like one who was born and raised to be just that. Murphy stands a few steps behind Klark, displaying more distrust than the two girls in their group. Leka shakes herself out of her own thoughts, knowing that there isn't much time before the _ripas_ make it to the village gates.

She leads her team north and stares impassively at the men who were once her warriors. She grits her teeth in anger, hatred burning hot in her veins.

"Kill them all," she hisses.

Klark and Murphy do not waste time to respond. They rush forward as soon as the words leave her lips. Lexa snatches a rotten hand from where it had been going for her neck and cuts the _ripa_ 's head off. Gustus sticks to close to her side but she pays him no mind, completely focused on cutting down _ripas_.

Before long, she notices something strange about the horde. They are as mindless as she remembers them being, but they are also frothing at the mouth, seemingly desperate. One _ripa_ runs straight into her blade, and Lexa watches as it dies without her having to do anything. By the fourth _ripa_ to do the same, she stops abruptly to observe the bloodshed before her. She looks up in time to meet Klark's eyes as one _ripa_ rushes and impales itself with the _Skaikru_ leader's blade. She watches as Klark shouts "cover me" to Murphy before stopping her movements and watches as one _ripa_ stands stock still in front of the boy as he brings his ax down. Lexa looks to Gustus who grabs an overreaching arm and uses his knife to easily sink it into the _ripa_ 's skull.

Slowly, she looks up to find Klark, whose lips are pressed in a thin line and whose eyes are screaming the same confusion that Lexa feels. Fighting _ripas_ has never been this easy, and she cannot help but feel like she is missing something obvious. Unbidden, she looks to Klark for an answer and watches as the other girl grabs a _ripa_ that was rushing past her. She sees Klark say something, but Lexa cannot hear her over the loud noise of growling and howling and screaming. Confused and irritated, Lexa kills another _ripa_ that was going for Gustus' back.

In the seconds it took for her to kill, Klark seems to have realized something. By the time she looks up to meet blue eyes once again, there is despair written across Klark's eyes and the sight of it tugs something that she thought was long dead inside her. Murphy pushes his back against Klark, sensing the same tension that Lexa feels in waves from the _prisa_.

"Gustus!" she barks amidst the chaos. The man turns to her immediately and races back to her side.

Carefully and much too slowly for Lexa's liking, she leads them to where Klark and Murphy are battling the horde. She dodges at the same time that she slashes, feeling Gustus do the same beside her. What should have taken seconds took minutes and Lexa finds herself staring into Klark's now furious gaze the next time she looks up. Lexa growls and uses the burst of frustration to her advantage and cutting through two _ripas_ that were the final obstacle to her goal to get to Klark.

"Klark! Tell me!" Lexa shouts as soon as she's within hearing distance.

Her words do not cause a hitch or pause to the blonde's movements as she uses both hands to push her sword through two _ripas_.

"They want to die!" Klark answers, voice dripping with fury. Lexa turns to her as Klark pulls her blade out forcefully. " _They_ want to die!"

For a moment, Lexa is confused. And then, Klark lowers her blade, pushing the tip of it into the air. A _ripa_ impales itself through the mouth. Horror and realization dawn on her. _They_ want to die. The _ripas_ want to die. It is not that they were killing the _ripas_ so much as it was that the _ripas_ are killing themselves. Numbly, she raises her own sword and points it straight forward. Another _ripa_ runs through it. It opens its mouth, blood spilling to the ground between them.

"Heda," it croaks as it falls to its knees, " _moba_."

Lexa watches the once-warrior take his last breath, unable to comprehend the weight of what was happening.

"Heda!" She distantly hears Gustus shout, her eyes unable to tear away from the sight before her. "Heda!"

Unexpectedly, a hand grabs the back of her armor and _pulls_ , and she snaps back into the world in time to catch her balance and to see a _ripa_ 's teeth sink into Klark's arm before she raises the arm that pulled her out of the way and cuts it down. Breathing heavily, Klark whips around to look at her.

" _Leksa_ ," Klark hisses and the sound of her own name jolts her further back into reality, " _focus_. Please. I know. I understand. But _please_ focus. We'll deal with everything else after."

Pride wounded, she meets Klark's glare with equal intensity but heeds her request. She takes a deep breath and then dashes past the _prisa_.

The fight takes far longer than Lexa cares to admit.

But it does end.

The ground is bathed in red sunlight and red blood by the time the last _ripa_ falls lifeless to the ground. Panting, she wipes an arm across her face, grimacing at her split lip when a _ripa_ managed to backhand her. Standing still, she assesses her injuries. Aside from the split lip and a few shallow gashes, nothing seems to be too serious. Searching through countless bodies, she finds Gustus, looking worse for the wear but otherwise fine. He nods when he catches her eyes. Anya, who they met sometime in the midst of the chaos, took a knife to her thigh but stubbornly remains on her feet, and it makes Lexa think that he injury must not be too bad if her general isn't stumbling. Raven is nowhere to be found. Wells has a bruise forming beneath both eyes but he seems able enough to follow Anya's directions when she tells him to inform Indra that the sudden fight is over.

She catches a flash of blonde from the corner of her eye. She follows it and finds Klark, Raven, and Murphy in a small clearing, surrounded by bodies. The boy is sat on the ground, back leaning against a tree, and his ax resting on his chest. He seems to have fallen asleep. Klark and Raven are locked in conversation, the latter of two gripping the former's upper arm. There is blood running down both their faces and Klark's features are still contorted in wild anger. As she gets closer to the group, Lexa sees tears mixing with the blood on Klark's face. The sight of her state is almost enough for Lexa to hesitate.

"…it's fucking disgusting what they're doing, I know. They will pay, Clarke – you and the Commander will make sure of it. But not today, yeah? You can't just go into the Mountain guns blazing with your fucked up ribs and _holy shit_ is that a bite?" Lexa catches the last of Raven's speech.

Clarke sighs, angrily wiping at her face like she wants to claw her eyes out. "I know. _I know_. Just… give me a minute. This day has been…"

"As shitty as the smell of that pauna's ass? Yeah, I get what you mean. I'm _so_ fucking tired, I can probably sleep standing and with my eyes wide open," Raven says, inspiring a huff of grudging laughter from the _prisa_.

Lexa decides that it's as good a time as any to announce her presence. Intentionally, she makes her footsteps louder the closer she gets to them, making both women look up at her. Immediately, Raven looks wearier than she did a few moments ago. Lexa finally allows herself to wonder what it is about her own presence that places the _Skaikru_ on guard.

"Heda," Klark speaks up after clearing her throat. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

Despite her reservations about the strange _Skaikru_ leader, Lexa thinks of the way Klark placed her own arm for a bite that was meant for her neck and sees the way she is subtly hunched, arm wrapped around her torso.

"No, my warriors will take care of it. Go see Nyko and rest. We will talk tomorrow; come see me as soon as you wake," Lexa pauses. " _Mochof_ for what you did for me earlier."

Klark gives her a soft smile, all traces of her earlier anger vanishing from her face. "You're welcome."

Raven turns and marches toward the sleeping Murphy and Lexa watches with barely contained amusement as the _skaigada_ kicks the boy awake.

"Ow, what the fuck," he grumbles.

"Get up."

"Just leave me here. Guarding her Highness' ass wasn't easy," he waves a hand at Raven. "Dunno how you do it."

"Maybe you just suck at it."

" _You_ try covering for her when she decides to stand still in the middle of a fucking horde."

"Oh, can it, asshole?"

"I am literally standing right here," Klark interrupts.

Murphy cracks one eye open to look at the _prisa_. "I am literally too tired to care."

"Same," Klark sighs at the same time Raven does.

The _Skaikru_ leader pinches the bridge of her nose before moving to Murphy's side. Together with Raven, they haul him up to his feet by his armpits, his hands still clutching the ax close to his chest.

"No," he moans. "Why would you do this to me?"

"Do you have no shame, Murphy?" Klark asks.

"I have about as much shame as you have self-preservation. Which is to say oh, surprise _, surprise_ … zero."

Raven snorts. "Ain't that the truth."

Klark turns to Lexa at the last possible second. "Good night, Commander."

" _Reshop,_ Klark _kom Skaikru_."

From the distance, Lexa hears Raven's grumbling "what are we, chopped liver?" and Klark's subsequent "shut up, Raven."

What a strange, strange group indeed.

\--------------------

After taking her friends to Nyko, they had all shuffled to their tent, positively dead on their feet. Clarke knew that they would have to wait for tomorrow before they can get their new batch of kill marks. For the time being, there was nothing on their mind other than sleep, especially considering they spent the morning hunting the pauna then the afternoon fighting reapers. Her ribs throbbed at the reminder and the bandaged bite on her arm stung in response.

She was asleep before she could pull Raven closer to her.

She dreams.

_It could not have been more than a couple of hours after she slept, Clarke thinks as she roams an unfamiliar room. There is fur by the door and armor laid carefully on the bed. She looks at her body and recognizes nothing but black mist. It is cold, she knows instinctively as she watches the snowfall through the window. She startles when the door flies open, revealing a man the size of a mountain and a boy that barely reached the man's thigh._

_"Roan," she startles again at the name, "_ hide _. She is coming, and I cannot escape what is about to happen. But I will protect you."_

_The boy shakes his head. Clarke thinks he couldn't be older than eight years._

_"Please, ai yongon. Please," the man begs._

_She feels the desperation that boils beneath the man's skin, and she watches, entranced, as the man turns to her direction, pushing Roan forward. The scars on the man's face scream Azgeda, but Clarke didn't need the confirmation because she knows she's looking at a young Roan before he was banished by Nia. She feels helpless as the man falls to his knees, the sound striking like rolling thunder._

_"Hide. She will come, and I will die. You will carry my legacy to our people, and they will learn to recognize her cruelty and your kindness," the man says. "There is so much I have yet to teach you, but should you find the next Wanheda, respect them, follow them, they will lead you back to the path I began for you."_

_"Father," Roan croaks, small and afraid, "Will she kill me too?"_

_The man's eyes darken with the same power that Clarke has learned to recognize in her own gaze. He grasps Roan's upper arms and draws him into a desperate embrace._

_"No. I will protect you. I swear it."_

_"I do not want the next Wanheda," Roan whispers against his father's shoulder. "Can't you stay?"_

_The man sobs a wretched sound that Clarke did not think an Azgeda warrior can produce._

_"I wish for nothing more. But no, ai yongon, I cannot stay," the man pulls away. "Go, hide. And when she finds you, follow her orders. Do not tell her that I am Wanheda. It is our secret, and it will remain ours until you find the next."_

_Roan wipes the tears running down his face and nods resolutely before folding himself into the space beneath the bed. Clarke bends, watching as the boy clamps a hand over his mouth, trying to muffle his sobs. There is hatred in his eyes, and the sight launches a spear through her heart. Before she could reach out with nonexistent comfort, the doors to the home burst open once again, this time bringing with it three warriors and Queen Nia._

_"Hodnes," she drawls, making the hair at the back of Clarke's neck prickle. "Why do you hide from me?"_

_The man bristles. "Do not play games, Nia. I know why you are here."_

_Nia laughs, cold and cruel. "You betrayed me, Aidan. I asked you to kill the Natblida and you return empty-handed."_

_"They are children, Nia!"_

_"And you are an assassin."_

_"I am also a father to_ your _son."_

_"That weak boy is no son of mine," Nia growls._

_"He has more strength than you know, and one day, he will lead our people against you. But until that day," Aidan unsheathes a knife, "Azgeda will fall with you at its head."_

_Clarke gasps as Aidan slashes his own throat with one swift move. Nia stands as he falls to the ground and sits on her haunches beside the dying assassin. He looks at the queen, hatred and love shining bright in his eyes._

_"Even as you die before me, I can see your love, Aidan," Nia smiles, deceivingly soft and reaching a hand to cup the man's cheek. "Do not worry, hodnes, I will remake Roan in my image. I hope you step into the afterlife knowing that you failed because of love."_

_Abruptly, the scene shifts into something more familiar. No. No, no no, Clarke thinks desperately as her body materializes beside a dying Lexa. No, Clarke moans in the recesses of her mind even as grief claws its way out of her throat._

_"No!" She says vehemently. "I am_ not _letting you die."_

_And these words are familiar. She has said them before. She knows that this is a dream, a memory. She knows that Lexa is alive and breathing, that she is no more than a few steps away from her sleeping body. She wants to wake up; she doesn't want to go through this again._

_Wanheda does not answer her desperate pleas._

_"There's nothing you can do now," Lexa speaks, voice croaking and weak and dying. "The next Commander will protect you."_

_Clarke is powerless as she continues to press down on the wound and stares into Lexa's dazed green eyes. She is powerless as the words she knows by heart well inside her._

_"I don't want the next Commander._

_She feels her heart break anew, her brows furrowing with the weight of her grief. Her eyes must scream something desperate and devastated because it_ burns _, it burns like nothing she has ever known. Her lips tremble and despite that, she is surprised when she doesn't roar._

 _"I want_ you _," she whispers instead, letting the words hang in the suffocating air between Lexa's stuttered breaths and her own despair._

_Lexa only looks at her like she hung the moon and stars in three words even as tears escape her eyes. Lexa only looks at her like she is accepting Clarke's grief, like she would take it from her if she could. And Clarke stares back, unspoken words like 'don't leave me' and 'please stay' trapped in the spider cracks of her heart. She memorizes green eyes, the shape of her lips, the curl of her hair._

_And then, Clarke wakes_.

\--------------------

Raven first thought when she wakes unexpectedly is _ouch_. The second is _Clarke_.

The blonde's arm is wrapped around her waist. There's a face pressed deep into her shoulder blades, and it takes Raven a second to register that the warmth the spreads through her thin shirt are tears. She squirms out of Clarke's death grip, only now hearing the sound of hitching breaths and quiet sobs. Carefully, she pries Clarke's arm off and rolls out of the cot and onto her feet. The sudden absence of her body makes Clarke curl into herself, and the sight of it is a bucket of ice-cold water to Raven. Clarke's knees are immediately tucked under her chin, her arms wrapping around them. Raven watches only long enough for another quiet sob to pass the blonde's lips.

"Clarke," she says softly, not wanting to rouse Murphy and Wells. "Clarke, come on."

Still, the blonde doesn't move other than to take gasping breaths. Raven slaps a hand to the blonde's cheek. "Clarke, wake up."

Blue eyes open slowly, so unlike the way it would usually snap to wakefulness. They are bloodshot and swimming in tears, and Raven suddenly realizes that her nightmare must have been something about Lexa. Clarke doesn't look at her, and Raven moves to pull Clarke up and out of the tent. She is pliant under her good hand, and it worries Raven to no end.

Bypassing Anya's tent, she leads Clarke out of TonDC, wanting to have enough space for the blonde to cry or scream or sob without alerting the Commander. They are in no shape to answer questions, and she's not sure if Clarke is present enough to stop herself from barging into the Commander's tent. She needn't have worried though because Clarke doesn't seem to be here at all, and Raven doesn't know what to do because this is the worst she's ever seen the blonde in all timelines. Tears run relentlessly down her face but it seems effortless in that Clarke's brows aren't furrowed in the way they do when she cries. Her eyes are wide open, seeing something Raven cannot, and there is utter despair written in the way her body stands stock still, how she doesn't tremble, how her hands are open and limp like they’ve given up on something they tried to hold onto.

"Look at me," Clarke doesn't respond when she places her hands against wet cheeks. " _Look at me_ ," she says firmly, trying to imitate the way Clarke sounds when she's unyielding.

To her surprise, it works as blue eyes snap to her.

"There you go," Raven coos even as Clarke's lips part open and a sob breaks through. "Hey, _hey_ , you're okay, you're safe. Come back."

Clarke takes a ragged breath in at her words, and it sounds painful even to Raven. "Clarke, come on. What do you need? What can I do?"

There's another sob and then Clarke is gritting her teeth, her hand coming up to rest right above where Raven thinks her heart is. Raven watches as the blonde's fingers claw at her own shirt. When she looks up, she finds herself holding her breath at the sheer hopelessness in Clarke's usually determined eyes.

"What do you need?" She repeats if a little more desperately than before. "What do you need? I won't know if you don't tell me."

Finally, _finally_ , a sound comes out of Clarke's throat. It is tinged in the kind of sadness that Raven doesn't understand, and as it permeates the air around them, she bites the inside of her cheek, trying to keep herself from crying along with Clarke.

"Try again," she demands. "Try again for me, please."

For a moment, Clarke does nothing but stare at her desperately. And then, Raven watches as her face crumples, her body folds, and she falls straight into her arms.

" _Lexa_ ," Clarke manages to say in between sobs. " _Lexa, Lexa._ "

The Commander's name falls repeatedly from the blonde's lips like she's begging. And Clarke should never have to beg, Raven thinks. She wraps her good arm around Clarke the best she can with her sling and the blonde's hand still clawing at her chest.

"I need to…" Clarke continues. "I need to…"

For the first time since she got it, Raven's mark stings.

The shock of it makes her tighten her arm around Clarke. The blonde repeats Lexa's name and every time she does, the pain from the mark builds from a distant stinging to a burning cold – one that brings with it frostbitten limbs and dead bodies. She sucks in a sharp breath as the world around her falls away. She blinks and then she's in a room she's never been in, watching Clarke press cloth over a bloodied and dying Lexa, watching as the Commander fixes her glazed eyes on Clarke's face like it's the only thing she sees even as she bleeds, watching as Clarke's voice cracks in a million different places when she says 'may we meet again.'

She blinks again and then she's back with Clarke in her arms and nothing but trees in front of her. Slowly, she pulls away from the blonde, eyes fixed on Clarke's lips, waiting for them to move with the repeating _Lexa_ in her head. She watches as they part open only for more sobs to come out. Raven grips the other girl's arm as a tidal wave of grief floods her entire being, knowing instinctively that what she's feeling isn't hers. It spreads and reaches the nooks and crannies of Raven's body. Unbidden, she starts to cry, clutching Clarke's arm like it's a lifeline at the same time that she's holding the blonde back from going to Lexa's side the way the desperation that isn't hers dictates. And Raven thinks that she should never have to deny Clarke anything, least of all _this_ and not when she now knows from the memories that flashed inside her head that a part of Clarke died the moment Lexa stopped breathing.

"Raven?" A voice calls, and she finds a sleep-rumpled Anya standing a few feet away from them. Raven's tear-flooded eyes fall to the very faint, almost unnoticeable if she didn't know what she was looking for, bright blue of Anya's mark beneath the general's long sleeves before lifting her gaze up to Anya's.

Clarke does not react to the newcomer but the desperate begging in Raven's head continues as the blonde lets sob after sob wreak havoc on her body.

"I think… I think I just saw-" she starts and stumbles but doesn't get to finish as Anya nods sharply. It's only then that Raven finds the same kind of grief shining in the general's eyes.

They both snap to Clarke when they hear her shift, and Raven can only watch as the blonde tips her head up, the hand clawing at her chest moving to grasp at her throat. The arm under Raven's hand trembles violently as glowing blue eyes stared unseeing at the branches above them, mouth open in a silent scream. When she staggers forward, Anya is there, hands pinning the blonde where she is. Raven ignores the howling in her head that began when Anya stopped Clarke and focuses on helping the general restrain her. She can only hope that Clarke will forgive them for this in the aftermath.

"Klark!" She hears Anya hiss above the howling and the Commander's name in her head. "Listen to me, look at me. Klark, _beja_."

In a show of emotion that Raven didn't think the general was capable of, Anya pulls Clarke's head with one hand until their foreheads touch. It is then that Raven remembers who Lexa is to Anya and it becomes even more apparent at the frown on the general's lips like she's trying to not join them in tears. Raven focuses on Anya, finding it easier to process both her and Clarke's emotions at the sight of the general. Anya moves her hand from the back of Clarke's head to the blonde's other hand, pressing it against her own chest.

"Do you feel that, Klark?" Anya says gently. "Do you feel it? Answer me."

Clarke's gaze follows her own arm, trailing it to the hand pressed to Anya's chest.

"It is alive, is it not?" Anya continues. "It is warm. _I_ am warm, and _I am here_."

Slowly, Clarke nods, her sobs fading into hiccupping breaths the longer she is connected to Anya. Seemingly in response, the mark stings but sizzles from the burning cold to an echo of what it felt like before. The howling and the Commander's name drains to a whimper, and Raven couldn't stop her sigh of relief even if she tried.

"I died once. Do you remember?"

Clarke nods again, this time a little faster than before.

"And yet, I am here," Anya promises. "And if _I_ am here, then Lexa is too."

The moment Anya says the Commander's name, Clarke's brows furrow in confusion.

"She is here, and she is alive," Anya continues to swear. "She is well. She is asleep in the Commander's tent, guarded by Gustus, who is also alive and here, and Indra."

"She is alive?" Clarke repeats with nothing but childlike wonder and cautious hope in her voice. Raven clenches her jaw, hoping it would stem her tears.

" _Sha, prisa_ , Lexa is alive and here," Anya repeats softly.

"Can I…" Clarke starts but doesn't finish. It doesn't matter because Raven and Anya can hear the whispered continuation of her question in their heads.

"No, because she does not yet know who you are to her or who she is to _you_."

Clarke tenses, and when Raven thinks she might try to break out of their restraints again, the blonde only melts, exhausted and so devastatingly sad. The last of the echoes in her head and the stinging from her mark fades as if they were never there.

"I am sorry, _prisa_. But she is alive and here. Is that not enough?" Anya says like she's not only trying to convince Clarke but also herself. Raven understands because Clarke's memories are still fresh in her own mind, and it makes her feel like she was there when Lexa died even though she was nowhere near Polis. She knows how Clarke feels for being there and can only imagine how Anya feels after seeing what the blonde lived through.

Clarke sighs and Raven catches her when she staggers into their arms.

"It is more than enough," the blonde whispers, the words muffled against Anya's shoulder. "'M sorry. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Clarke," she says. "It's not your fault."

"Still, 'm sorry," the blonde slurs.

They stay wrapped in each other's arms for a few long moments.

"She is right, Klark," Anya adds. "Though next time, I would prefer if you do not wake me up with your memories in my head."

Clarke pulls away at that, brows furrowing in confusion.

"My what now?"

"You don't know?" Raven couldn't help asking.

"What do you mean my memories?"

"Your mark burned, Clarke," she answers. "And then, I blinked and it was like I was there with you in Polis when Lexa… died," she says the words carefully as Clarke's eyes glaze for a second at the memory.

"I was asleep," Anya says. "I thought I was dreaming. There was… I do not know how to describe it."

"Grief? Grief that isn't your own, I mean," Raven clarifies to which Anya nods. "We could feel what you felt, and I heard your thoughts. You kept repeating Lexa's name."

Again, Anya nods.

"You saw it?" Clarke asks Anya.

"I did," Anya responds, pain evident in her answer.

"I'm sorry you had to see it. I thought the marks only burn if I need you."

"Well, in a way, you did," she interjects before Clarke could spiral again. "It's either you needed us to bring you Lexa or you needed us to stop you from going to her. I'm thinking the former. Wanheda didn't explain?"

" _Wanheda_ ," Clarke spits, suddenly angry, "hasn't been around since we first saw Lexa after the pauna hunt. She said something about not being heard and then retreated. She's been quiet ever since. Speaking of, Anya does the name Aidan mean anything to you?"

Anya tenses.

"How do you know that name?"

"I dreamt of his death," Clarke says.

" _Aidan kom Azgeda_ was one of Nia's many assassins. He was one of her best. As _goufa_ , we were told legends and stories about him to stop us from going beyond the Trikru borders. I had heard he perished when I was a _seken_ but no one knew how he died."

"He was the previous vessel for Wanheda _and_ he was Roan's father," Anya's mouth drops open in shock. "He slit his own throat so that Nia wouldn't kill him. I don't think she knew he was Wanheda though. The dream ended as soon as he died and that's when I dreamt of Lexa's… death."

Raven throws her hands up in the air in frustration. "Clarke, do you ever dream of oh, I don't know, sunshine and rainbows?"

Clarke chuckles and rubs her face tiredly. "I'll let you know when I do, Rae. I don't think I'll be sleeping anytime soon though."

"Same," because even though she hated the Commander for the longest time, Clarke's love and despair are ingrained her mind. Internally, she swears to remember the way Lexa looked at Clarke as her life slipped from her hands when the Commander makes it hard for her to feel anything but anger.

Raven doesn't trust Lexa, far from it in fact. But for Clarke and the echo of the foreign grief she felt only moments ago, she finally, _finally_ lets her age-old anger go.

"Come on then _skaigadas_ ," Anya grumbles. "We'll train until breakfast."

"Anya, Raven" Clarke stops them before they could turn away. "Thank you."

Raven suspects that Anya would have scoffed if it weren't for the fact that the statement drips with sincerity and heartfelt gratitude. Instead, the general only looks away at the same time that Raven reaches for Clarke's hand and squeezes it.

"Tell anyone of this, and I will not hesitate to gut you where you stand, _prisa_."

Clarke laughs, loud but tinged with a hint of sadness. "There's no one for me to tell, Anya."

\--------------------

Lexa wakes as soon as the sun touches the horizon.

She knows by the shadows in front of her tent that Anya must have forced Gustus out of his post sometime during the night. Sighing, she pushes herself off of her furs, padding across her tent to drink a cup of water. Today will be busy. First, she will need to talk to Indra about the feast later tonight. Second, she will have to organize the funeral pyre for the downed _ripas_. Gustus had argued vehemently against it before she retired to her bed, but she had been steadfast in her belief that there is more to know about the _ripas_. And there was the third task she had to complete before the feast: talking to Klark.

After a full night's rest, she still didn't know what to make of the woman. She was clearly skilled in fighting as well as leadership. She remembered the way the _prisa_ cut down _ripa_ after _ripa_ , regardless of whether or not they impale themselves with Klark's sword. And then, she remembers the way her name fell from the _Skaikru_ leader's lips like she has been saying it for a long time. She remembers her iron command to Murphy and most of all, to her.

Klark also drew people to her. She remembers the easy familiarity between her and her group, remembers how Anya vouched for her despite only knowing her a few months, remembers how the _goufa_ , Angus she believes he is called, clung to the _prisa_ , She has yet to see TonDC really interact with Klark, but she would not be surprised if they approached her with respect.

Lexa wants to believe that there is nothing more to Klark than a woman who fell from the sky. She wants to think Klark wants nothing more than peace between their peoples. But then, there are things that do not make sense about the _prisa_. She moves like a seasoned warrior even though she couldn't be given the time that has passed since she landed. She is capable of thinking and processing the worst as told by how Klark discerned what was wrong with the _ripas_. She did not act at all shocked when she saw her black blood. There seems to be a quiet sadness to the way Klark carries herself, which Lexa would be more than willing to dismiss it as an emotion associated with the kill marks, but it seems that Klark's sadness always becomes more apparent when she is near.

And then there's the reaction of the Spirit of the Commander.

She had long ago separated herself from the spirit that calls itself Heda. She had done so to survive after Costia was taken away from her. She locked the spirit out of her own mind, believing that she can and will lead her people to peace without her help. The spirit had readily accepted what Lexa did. It did not speak to her as it did before, but it also did not fight her. Yesterday was the first time the spirit fought every barrier that Lexa placed just to beg.

Like everything about Klark, Lexa does not know what to make of the spirit's reaction.

Shaking her head, she clears her thoughts. There will be time for that later.

"Indra," she calls loud enough. One of the shadows in front of her tent moves immediately into her tent.

" _Sha_ , Heda?" The village chief says stiffly.

"Organize TonDC in preparation for the feast tonight. Was the pauna preserved?"

" _Sha_ , the warriors who remained within the village cured it after the attack."

"Casualties?"

Indra's eyes shine with pride. "None, Heda."

She nods. "Good. Take my warriors with you. Have them prepare the funeral pyre for the fallen _ripas_. Any news on _Skaikru_?"

"Klark _kom Skaikru,_ Mofi _kom Skaikru_ , and Reivon _kom Skaikru_ are on the training grounds, Heda. According to my warriors, they are training with Onya."

Lexa raises a brow. "This early?"

"Linkon says they have been awake since before sunrise, Heda. I assigned him to monitor the _Skaikru_ whenever possible."

"Are they aware of this?"

"No," Indra responds. "He has been able to keep himself out of sight."

"Is he at the training grounds then?"

" _Sha_ , Heda."

"Very well, I will go there myself. I will trust you to organize your village for both the funeral pyre and the feast. Send Gustus to me when he wakes. Who is the warrior you assigned to replace his post?"

"Artigas _kom Trikru_."

"Ah, yes. We have met. He will be enough to escort me as I'm sure you will insist."

Indra gives her a small smile that Lexa sees so rarely. Lexa leaves the tent with her, and she waits patiently as Indra instructs Artigas to stay by her side. The young warrior nods firmly, giving her a bow of respect and a quiet 'Heda' to which Indra nods in approval before calling out the warriors Lexa brought with her from Polis.

Satisfied that Indra won't fail her, Lexa moves on to the training grounds. She is greeted by the sight of Anya's warriors and some civilians surrounding a specific area that Lexa assumes where _Skaikru_ must be. The nearer she gets, the more she feels the still atmosphere so unlike what she has come to expect from excited warriors on the training grounds. She looks up and scours the trees, seeking her target. Once she spots it, she moves behind the crowd, not wanting to alert anyone of her arrival. She steps in front of a tree a few feet away from the training grounds. Not more than a few seconds later, a silent presence appears from behind the very same tree she is leaning on.

"Linkon," she mutters.

" _Sha_ , Heda," he confirms. She does not turn to look at him.

"Indra tells me you were assigned to watch _Skaikru_. I already know their names; I met and fought with them yesterday. What have you to report?"

"Wells _kom Skaikru_ is smart. He prefers healing over training or fighting but he learns quickly in either. He spends the most time with Klark _kom Skaikru_ and I have heard that she grew up with him. She plays a game I believe is _wor_ to us with Klark. Murphy _kom Skaikru_ is brash and reckless but otherwise loyal to Klark. He is weary but has steadily developed bonds with all of them. He is adept with the ax but is not much of a warrior when given any other weapon. Raven _kom Skaikru_ is Klark's second-in-command. She goes where Klark goes and is fiercely loyal to her. She is adept with a sword and passable with a knife. She is quick-witted and honest, and she has the same proficiency as Klark in terms of adapting to our culture."

"What of Klark?" She asks.

For the first time, Linkon hesitates. "Speak true, _gona_ ," she orders.

" _Sha_ , Heda. Klark is… complicated."

"Oh? How so?"

"The _Skaikru_ that came with her follows her not because of fear but because of the relationships she cultivates with them. She allows them to question her decisions, and she listens to them and acknowledges their arguments if there is any that is valid. However, she is also immovable on certain decisions, such as hunting the pauna. They questioned her, but Klark only raised a hand to silence them and they did nothing more. She is also a healer. She trains with Nyko when Anya is on patrols, and from what I have heard from him, she has surprising skill in the field courtesy of her intelligence."

"And?" Lexa prods, intrigued.

"She is an extraordinary warrior, Heda, as I'm sure you will see after our conversation. She prefers her swords and knives but she has mastered the basics of other weapons. She trained relentlessly with Anya and is always up before sunrise. If given a few more weeks of training, she may be able to stand on par with Anya in terms of skill. She is both weak and strong. She is both a warrior and a healer. She is both a leader and a follower."

"What can you tell me about the kill marks?"

"Nothing of value, Heda, other than that Anya always gives them their kill marks in the privacy of her tent. From what I have seen though, Klark is pained every time she kills. On days like yesterday, she barely sleeps, trading rest for training. However many kill marks she has on her body, I do not doubt she feels for each and every one. I believe that that may be what endears her to the rest of _Skaikru_."

Lexa remembers the scars on Klark's ribs. "Have you anything else to add, Linkon?"

" _Sha_ , Heda. Klark and Raven only slept for four candle marks after they retired to their tent last night. I was still in my post when they stepped out of the tent. I cannot be sure but Klark may have been caught by a dream. Raven led her out of TonDC. I followed them, but I could not hear what was being said," Linkon answers.

"Why?"

"I was too high up. They have become more adept at living amongst the trees. I have had to find ways to keep myself out of sight."

Lexa nods. "Continue."

"Whatever it was that had happened, it left Klark in despair. In the time they have lived in TonDC, I have never seen her break. Anya found them. The general seemed to share in what Klark was feeling. She acted familiarly with the _Skaikru_ leader, even going as far as to initiate contact to calm Klark."

This shocks Lexa because she has never known Anya to be one to initiate any form of contact beyond what was necessary.

"They began training two candle marks ago and has not stopped ever since. Murphy joined them later, while Wells was called by Nyko."

Lexa resists the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. Every time she learns something about Klark, there are always more questions than there are answers. Linkon seems to notice her predicament as she hears him shift ever so slightly.

"For what it is worth, Heda, I believe Klark when she says she wants nothing more than peace," he mumbles hesitantly.

" _Mochof_ , Linkon, I will keep that in mind. Consider this your dismissal from your mission. I expect to see you at the feast later tonight. Rest for now," Lexa orders.

" _Sha_ , Heda."

Without another word, the scout leaves, and Lexa is left behind with Artigas. She moves closer to the training ground, the warriors around her parting to make way. She stops just a couple of steps from the well-worn ground, watching as Klark stands in the center of the area. The _Skaikru_ leader _does_ look worse for wear as exhaustion seems to weigh heavily on her shoulders. Nonetheless, she stands her ground, digging her feet to the ground. Gustus appears next to Lexa.

"Good morning, Gustus. Care to enlighten me about what is happening?" She says, allowing a small hint of amusement in her voice at the sight of her warrior's rumpled appearance.

"Klark _kom Skaikru_ was tasked to defend nearly a candle mark ago, Heda. She has yet to yield," he says and Lexa is surprised to hear grudging respect in his tone.

Lexa turns her attention back on Klark just as the three attackers move in unison. Klark dodges the swipe of Murphy's ax but doesn't get enough time to counter the attack before she has to parry Raven's blade and dodge the well-aimed kick that Anya sends her way. Lexa watches as Klark grabs Raven's uninjured arm and twists it behind her back in one swift move before letting loose a vicious strike at Anya's direction. It misses the intended target but Klark uses the space she gains by pushing Raven to the ground. Unfortunately, she is forced to let her captive go as Murphy brings his ax down once again. The sound of metal hitting metal reverberates through the crowd, and Lexa finds herself drawn in as Klark uses her weight to throw Murphy off and as Raven pushes herself up to her feet and takes a few steps back.

Anya does not let Klark recover as her _fos_ uses Murphy's distraction to her advantage and punches the _prisa_ soundly in the stomach. Klark stumbles, and Raven grabs the opportunity to swipe a leg underneath Klark's. She falls on her back but manages to roll out of the way as Raven's blade sinks in the ground where her head used to be.

"Stay down, Princess," Murphy says as moves to take a slash at Klark while she's on the ground. Klark reacts by rolling forward and narrowly avoiding the blow.

Lexa watches as Klark pushes herself up to her feet once again, giving Murphy a pained smirk and wiping the blood from the corner of her lip. "I don't think so, Murphy."

Before she can get another word out, Anya is upon Klark in a sequence of fast-paced movements that Lexa only recognizes thanks to her own training with the general. Klark unsheathes a knife as she throws off one of Anya's attacks and then proceeds to meet her _fos_ blow for blow. For every time that Anya leaves a thin gash on Klark's body, the _prisa_ returns it in kind. Lexa has to admit that the display is impressive. By the time Anya lets up to suck in sharp, ragged breaths, both of them are covered in shallow gashes. Lexa can see that Klark is struggling to stay on her feet, and she estimates that the _prisa_ won't last much longer. Murphy and Raven seem to have noticed it at the same time she did as they explode into action.

Murphy lifts his ax with the intention of cutting Klark in half only to have to move out of the way as a knife flies to his face. Klark uses her sword to meet Raven's, giving a shout as she pushes her back a few steps before immediately turning to Murphy and kicking his shin strong enough to make the boy fall to his knee and give her a few precious seconds to rip the knife she threw from the trunk of the tree behind Murphy. And then, Raven is rushing towards her, sword low. Klark dodges the upward strike only to be hit in the face by Anya. Klark's head whips to the side at the force of it but Lexa can see her blue eyes still trained in front of her. Klark slides a foot behind her to stop her fall at the same time that she brings a knife down to Murphy's throat, abruptly ending his efforts to move away. Klark pushes her other arm forward, stopping just short of Raven's eye just as Anya appears behind her, places what Lexa knows to be a punishing grip on her shoulder, and brings a sword right in front of Klark's unguarded throat.

"What now, _prisa_?" Lexa hears Anya ask as they all freeze in their positions: Klark's sword just one push away from taking Raven's eye, the other girl's sword frozen at an equal distance from Klark's stomach; the tip of the _prisa_ 's knife pressed against Murphy's throat, and Anya's blade right in front of her own.

From one breath to the next, Klark stays defiantly silent before giving a sigh just when Lexa begins to think that she might try to break away from her attackers.

"At this point, Clarke, three of us are dead and cheekbones is the only one left standing," Raven says.

"Yeah," Klark agrees readily as she huffs out a laugh. "I yield."

"Thank fuck," Murphy mutters as he sits on the ground.

Anya lets Klark go, and the _prisa_ drops to sit beside Murphy, panting and exhausted.

"Are we sure _I'm_ the cockroach?"

"No doubt about it, Murph," Klark responds in between breaths.

"She's right," Raven adds, "you look like it, you smell like it, you live like it."

"Well, at least I'm immortal."

"Yeah, immortal _and_ disgusting," Raven scoffs. "You think Heda would let us borrow her giant bodyguard? Maybe _he_ can squish you out of your miserable existence."

Lexa peers at Gustus, restraining a laugh that bubbles in her chest as said bodyguard mouths the word 'squish' before shaking his head and muttering " _goufas_ " under his breath.

"You do know that _Heda_ is right there," Anya states, pointing at her and Gustus' direction.

Lexa takes that as her invitation. She makes her way over to _Skaikru_ , the group falling silent at her approach. She stops just in front of Klark, noting her bloodshot and red-rimmed eyes. Again, blue eyes fall to her stomach, and this time, it stays there. Lexa wishes she could peer inside the _prisa_ 's head just to learn what it means when she looks at her like that. She directs her attention to Raven, who is sporting an unreadable expression on her face.

"Well, this is awkward," Murphy drawls as he picks himself up from the ground and dusts his pans. "Good morning, Heda."

Her title stumbles past his lips, and it tells Lexa that he is not as familiar with her as Klark and Raven seem to be. Nonetheless, his words are enough to jolt the two girls back to reality as Raven snorts and Klark looks away to glare at the boy. Lexa rushes to take the opportunity before the uncomfortable silence returns.

"That was an impressive display," she comments.

Anya's hand falls on her shoulder, her touch tight and almost bruising. Lexa tries to hide her shock. " _Mochof_ , Heda," her general croaks beside her, voice barely above a whisper and laden with emotions that confuse Lexa. She tries not to let it bother her.

"You did well, Anya," she says.

Anya keeps her hold for a few seconds longer before giving her shoulder a soft squeeze and letting go. "I will go help Indra with the preparations."

Lexa nods at her before turning to Klark whose eyes were locked in a silent conversation with Raven before looking up at her. Lexa extends a hand to her as soon as she catches her attention. Klark wraps her calloused fingers around her wrist slowly like it's intentional but at the same time like it's instinct. They tighten in the way Anya's grip on her shoulder was, and it makes Lexa think that there is a connection between both actions. Klark holds on to her wrist and lets her hand rest there as if she's waiting for her to move. So, she pulls the _prisa_ up to her feet. Klark goes with the motion easily.

"Perhaps one day, we could spar, Klark," she says above Heda's broken whimpers.

Klark swallows, looking steadily in her eyes in a way that is both searching and yielding. "I would be honored, Heda."

Gustus grunts from behind her and Klark hastily lets her go at the sound. Lexa suppresses the urge to express her sudden and inexplicable dissatisfaction to Gustus.

"Clarke, I'll go and get some much-needed shut-eye," Raven interrupts. "Unless you need me?"

Klark shakes her head. "Go ahead. I'll meet you later. Murphy, you go and help Anya. Try not to get stabbed."

"Yeah, yeah, Princess."

Lexa waits long enough for the two to vacate the training grounds.

"Shall we? We have much to discuss," she says before turning to lead the way to the war tent before Klark can say anything.

\--------------------

Clarke is beginning to think that she should've yielded earlier than she did.

She's completely and utterly exhausted, and while she doesn't think that sleep is the answer, she does want to sit in a corner and yell at Wanheda, who remains silent in her head. She can still feel the god within her, but she is not somewhere Clarke can reach so easily. If she could, she would have dragged Wanheda back because she and Raven were her pillars since they woke up, and having Lexa near her like this, being able to _touch_ her and feel the pulse that hummed steadily beneath her fingers, is enough to test what little self-control she had left.

Lexa eyes her with distrust and caution even though they did not meet in the aftermath of 300 burned warriors. She keeps her emotions hidden well beneath a perfect mask, always just a touch far away from Clarke's reach. But perhaps the most painful of all is the mantra that she repeats forcibly in her head when she thinks she might wrap the Commander in her arms and never let go: _she does not remember me. I am here, and she has no memory of me. But she is here, and that is more than enough._

It is what Clarke repeats as she stands before Lexa, watching as she sits on her throne, regal and powerful and _alive_.

"Nothing comes without a price in this world, Klark _kom Skaikru_. Tell me, what do your people have to offer me in exchange for the peace you desire?"

She locks her exhausted knees in place, hoping that the adrenaline from the fight and the impending conversation will last long enough for her to keep herself upright. Clarke pushes the _I am here, remember me_ down and forces the words Lexa expects to hear.

"Medicine and technology as well as young and able bodies, Heda." She thinks of Octavia and the fire in her eyes and _everyone's always counting on you_ as she says this. "Our way of healing is different from yours. Nyko told me that you have tried to cure the _ripas_ , but they all died anyway. I have reason to believe that my people can cure them."

Lexa doesn't twitch at the news, only raising an eyebrow, a clear gesture for her to continue. Clarke's heart pounds in her chest because the survival of her people depends on how this conversation goes.

"I told you that my mother is a healer up on the Ark. She is the best we have," quickly, she thinks of a white lie, "during the first time we fought the _ripas_ I noticed that they were acting much like the way some of my mother's patients do – the ones who were addicted to certain drugs. I inspected the bodies after the fight. All of them had needle marks, which means the Mountain is giving them some kind of drug that turns them into what they are. I think that the reason why Nyko fails to keep the _ripas_ they captured alive is that he did not have access to the equipment we have on the Ark."

"How so?"

"Our technology is advanced enough to bring back the dead."

"You believe this?"

"Yes, Heda," she says firmly. After all, she's seen it happen. Lexa remains impassive.

"What else have you to offer?"

"In a month's time, the Ark will be sending 100 of our people down here. They are from what we call the Prison Station, and the Ark sees them as expendable."

For the first time since she saw Lexa, Clarke manages to feel something other than longing and grief. She revels in the anger that spreads through her veins at the thought of the Ark and the first time she was sent to the ground and lets the feeling mix with her adrenaline.

"They are young and will be willing to learn your ways to help with the fight against the Mountain," she explains.

"And who are you to them?"

Clarke lets a feral grin stretch her lips. "No one."

"And yet you smile and you say they will be willing to learn from us. Why is that?"

"Because if they don't follow me, then I will make them. I know my wish for peace is idealistic and naïve, but I am more than willing to make sacrifices to achieve it."

"You say they are from your Ark's prison. They are criminals, then?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then, how do you expect me to trust your people when they bring me prisoners?"

Clarke sighs. "Their crimes are insignificant. On the Ark, any crime is punishable by death. If a crime is committed before the age of 18, they are imprisoned. Otherwise, they are floated – thrown to space and left to die. The 100 that will be coming down here are mostly petty criminals. Some of them may have stolen food or medicine for their families; others may have gotten themselves arrested for violating curfew. Regardless, most do not have crimes that warrant attention."

Lexa hums noncommittally. "I want to speak with the leaders of your Ark. Can you arrange that?"

"Yes, Heda. Our next contact with them is tomorrow evening. Should I expect you to be there?"

"Yes. I will bring Anya and Indra. Do not tell your people about our participation. I wish to make my own judgments, and I wish to see theirs."

Clarke holds her tongue, deciding to choose which battles to fight. She doesn't like the idea of shocking her parents, Jaha, and whomever else will be joining the meeting, but she knows that this is the best she will get from Lexa. So, she nods but doesn't say anything more, the last of her adrenaline from the fight before and the conversation she just had with Lexa slipping away from her fingers and she finds herself tipping forward. Before she can hit the ground, her chin finds a new home on a padded shoulder and an arm wraps around her waist, keeping her from falling to her knees.

Against her will, Clarke breathes deep, taking the scent of grass and woods and _life_ and _home_ and spreading it to every corner of her lungs. She had almost forgotten what Lexa smells like and while she hates that this is when her body decided to betray her, she reminds herself of what she's forgotten greedily. The arm around her waist is strong and firm, and it reminds her of _life should be more than just surviving_ and what it felt like to feel safe. The shoulder under her chin is tense but steady, and it reminds her of _not everyone, not you_ and what it felt like for someone to understand the weight of thousands of lives on her shoulders. The body pressed against hers is warm and so, _so_ alive, and for the moment, it makes her forget about _there's nothing you can do now_ , unseeing green eyes, and black blood.

Her eyes burn with the tears she cannot let fall because it is only now that it sinks into her that Lexa is alive. She is _alive_ and while it hurts that Lexa doesn't remember her, she does not regret choosing Anya instead of Lexa. Because _this_ is more than enough, because no matter how much it hurts that Lexa doesn't remember her, watching her die hurt (still hurts) more. Choosing Lexa met that the Commander will love her. But it also meant that she would be risking her life for Clarke. She simply could not bear the thought of Lexa taking another bullet that was meant for her just because they believe that love is weakness even though it is anything but to Clarke. The Lexa who holds her now does not love her, and if it meant that she would live longer, that she would never leave her behind again, then Clarke will willingly take her love, lay it at Lexa's feet, and walk away without expecting anything in return.

"Artigas, get a chair for Klark and call Nyko," Lexa instructs.

Clarke closes her eyes at the sound of Lexa's voice, letting it wash over her. She struggles to pull away but tries anyway, knowing that she cannot stay where she is most at home any longer. Lexa tightens her arm in response to her efforts, and Clarke tries not to sob.

"I'm fine," Clarke rasps as Lexa catches the arm she was going to use to push herself back. Despite what she says, she wraps her hand around Lexa's arm like it's her anchor, and it is. " _Moba_ , Heda."

Lexa says nothing in response and instead, guides her to the chair Artigas brought. As soon as she's situated, Lexa pulls away. Clarke doesn't let her arm go though, failing to find it in herself to do so. She watches as Lexa eyes her hand curiously before meeting her gaze.

"We could have had our conversation later today. There was no need for you to ignore your health," the Commander says, vaguely disapproving. The tone makes her smile despite the burning behind her eyes.

"I am not important, Heda, My people are," she responds, still holding on to the arm beneath her hand. Lexa doesn't pull away, and Clarke impossibly falls a little more in love.

"Being a leader means that you _are_ important. You are useless to your people if you are exhausted and dead on your feet."

"I can't afford to let anyone think I am weak. I can't afford the price of doing so. So, I persevere," she answers.

"And yet you show weakness to me," Lexa retorts. "I know you are strong enough to hunt a pauna, to kill _ripas_ , and to fight against three skilled warriors with nothing but a mere four candle marks of sleep. I know that you lead your people well, and I do believe you when you say want peace. But you also have your kill marks and your secrets and the weakness you show to me. Who are you, Klark _kom Skaikru_ , and why do you look at me as if you know who I am?"

Clarke stops breathing, hoping it's enough to stop herself from saying _I am yours_. At her silence, Lexa tightens her grip around her arm, pulling slightly.

"Who are you?" She demands.

And Clarke, with her kill marks and her secrets and her weaknesses, settles for a truth that she knows is true for the Commander. "As I have said before, Heda, I am no one."

Lexa gives a frustrated huff of breath. "If I am to trust you at all, tell me something true about you, something that matters. No more riddles. Do _not_ lie."

Clarke watches the muted anger in her eyes and knows instinctively that she won't be able to get away with shallow lies and half-truths. She feels like she is being scrubbed raw, and without Wanheda's steady presence to give her strength, she finds herself at a loss for words. She can tell Lexa that she has 932 kill marks, that she is Wanheda, that she will never love anyone but her. But these truths are neither enough to satiate Lexa's frustration and curiosity without giving rise to more questions that she won't be able to answer nor something that can help her or her people's case.

"Ask me something then, Heda. I swear to answer truthfully," is what she settles with.

Lexa pauses, considering her words. Clarke does nothing but waits as the Commander seemingly goes through her list of questions. She tries not to fidget under the intensity of her stare. She forces herself to keep still and think of nothing but the warmth of Lexa's arm even as she looks anywhere but at the Commander. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Lexa opens her mouth.

"Who am I to you?" She asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Clarke's fragile sense of calm shatters as she lifts her gaze back to Lexa's eyes. She swallows and Lexa follows the action attentively.

"Remember your promise, Klark _kom Skaikru_ ," Lexa warns.

In response, Clarke drops the mask she has learned to wear around this Lexa. She lets the tears that are constantly burning her eyes fall, and she feels the warmth of her grief for someone who is standing right in front of her run down her face. She lets her eyelids drop halfway to show her exhaustion, lets Lexa hear the staggering gasp of air she sucks in.

"Who am I to you?" Lexa repeats.

This time, Clarke doesn't hesitate.

"Everything," she says softly and honestly. "You are everything to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know y'all have so many questions. I will answer what I can in the comments but for the rest, it'll have to wait till the next chapter. Can't have my sleep-deprived ass giving away spoilers, yeah? Ok, I'm gonna stop rambling. It's past 1 in the morning where I am, so I'm just gonna marry my bed now.


End file.
